


Bend it like Brienne

by mawryth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bend it like Beckham appreciation, Coming of Age, Confessions, F/M, Falling In Love, Football | Soccer, Friendship, Happy Ending, Romance, Romantic Angst, coach/student relationships, first fanfiction so please be kind, i know nothing about football
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mawryth/pseuds/mawryth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne has a long summer in King's Landing awaiting her A-Level results. She gets talent-spotted by Arya, who plays for all-girl's side King's Maidens. Brienne is recruited into the team, although she decides to keep it a secret from her father, whom she feels sure would disapprove. She loves everything about the team, apart from one thing... it is being coached by the infamous Jaime Lannister, who seems to delight in tormenting and embarrassing her. </p><p>A fanfic based shamelessly on the genius that is Bend it like Beckham. All characters are from A Song of Ice and Fire. I own nothing and know nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, so any comments or helpful suggestions will be much appreciated. I have no idea if anything will be formatted as I want it either, so forgive me if things go wrong! 
> 
> A little note about the story: by 'football' I am referring to the sport played in the UK, known as 'soccer' elsewhere. I'm English so I have stuck with the terms I know. However, I would like to admit that I know absolutely nothing about football apart from what I have gleaned from watching Bend it Like Beckham. If I use the wrong terms or say something that is completely made up, forgive me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I am enjoying writing it! I'm a couple of chapters ahead with the writing, but I can't promise regular updates. Work and life are bound to get in the way but I am determined to get a whole story down.

Brienne was trudging back from the shop, her bags laden with last-minute things that her father had allegedly forgotten to buy for the roast they were attempting to make for Sunday lunch. She knew too well the reason why her father had suddenly pushed her out of the door to fetch condiments neither of them would use – the catch-up programme summing up the latest matches in the Westerosi Premier Football League was due to start, and while her father didn’t begrudge her watching it _occasionally_ , it wasn’t the sort of programme “a lady” should watch on a regular basis.

To get back quicker and reduce the amount of lost TV time, Brienne cut through the park. As usual, it was another warm summer’s day in King’s Landing. While fair weather was pleasant, it certainly didn’t match up to the changing moods of the weather she had often witnessed as a child on Tarth Island – while the days were generally hot and the sun beat down on the sapphire sea, things could quickly change and the wind would suddenly lash at the cliffs and the sea would boil and surge at the shore. Thinking of it made her eyes prick with tears, even though she and her father had been living in King’s Landing for some time now, ever since the accident in which she lost her brother. 

Shaking her head to rid herself of the memories, Brienne marched on. She passed children shrieking in the playground and tried to avoid gawking at the other teenage girls lying on the grass in dubious attire to catch the rays. She’d never dare to bare all in a public place like this – she was tall and broad, and while there wasn’t an inch of fat on her thanks to her love of sports, her pale freckly skin was hardly something to be admired, as all the boys, and most of the girls, at college and school had reminded her. 

“A lady” – Brienne snorted – there was no way she’d ever match that description. Her hair was cropped short, not in a cute pixie cut, but a blunt, chopped, practical style that required no fuss in the mornings. She rarely wore make up, and the figure-hugging, low cut tops that her peers seemed to favour never graced her wardrobe. She was currently wearing some comfy boyfriend-style jeans and a simple blue polo shirt. It was cool, comfortable and practical – everything she liked in her clothes. No, not a lady at all, she thought ruefully. 

Lost in her thoughts about Tarth and her inability to ape the pouting adolescents boys her age seemed to find attractive, Brienne failed to notice the football that sped across her path. It wasn’t until she heard a friendly shout bellowing her name that she finally registered that she’d passed near the ‘goal’ of a impromptu football match. 

“BRIENNE!” the voice bellowed again. Looking up, she grinned a wide-toothed smile as she saw her good friend Renly jogging towards her. 

“Gods you’re deaf!” he exclaimed good-naturedly. “I’ve been shouting your name for the last five minutes!” 

“Sorry I was miles away,” she smiled, accepting his friendly hug. “How are you?” 

“Dreadful,” he replied. “We’re being thrashed. The score is already 10-2!” 

“10-2? What are you doing? Playing with your feet tied together?” she laughed. 

“We may as well be,” he said sullenly. “Sandor and those idiots from that ‘Kingsguard’ gang just won’t let us keep the ball.” He paused and suddenly his face took on a charming smile that Brienne knew all too well. “Hey, Brienne…” 

“NO. I can’t, I’m running late as it is,” Brienne pre-empted. 

“Just for five minutes – help us claw a few goals back! Come on, you’re better than all of them!” 

“I’m a bit rusty. Ever since I got to old to play in the mixed team at school I haven’t been able to do it as much. I’ll probably be rubbish now.” 

“Nonsense and you know it. Please, for me?” Renly smiled his most charming grin and Brienne suddenly found herself reluctantly dropping her bags on the grass and marching over with Renly to where to the two teams were facing off. 

“You can’t bring a _girl_ in!” protested Sandor, a great hulking guy with black hair and faint traces of burn marks on his face which the skin grafts hadn’t quite been able to cover up. 

“It’s my team and I’m down one player thanks to that tackle you gave Meryn earlier,” replied Renly easily. Sandor looked as though he would like to complain more, but everyone else was getting impatient so he just grunted his assent. “Don’t blame me if you get hurt girl,” he warned. Brienne just shot him a withering look and took up a forward position on the right, her favoured place. 

The ball was kicked off and the match started again. Brienne was soon completely lost in the game – Renly passed to her and she effortlessly weaved between players, bending the ball around their legs and depriving them of any chance to tackle her. She was nearly at the goal when she found her way blocked and slipped the ball to one of her teammates, who happened to be Loras, another of Renly’s close friends. He scored and a cry went up. 

“10-3!” cried Renly, hugging her. Annoyance clouded Sandor’s face, and the next time Brienne got possession of the ball, he barrelled towards her. She danced around him, narrowly missing a very illegal tackle, and sent the ball forward to Renly, who was in the perfect position to make an attempt at the goal. It whizzed over to the entrance and narrowly missed the goalie’s fingertips. Another point won! 

The game continued and Brienne lost all track of time. She was tripped up a couple of times, but her skill and determination didn’t keep her down for long. Soon Renly was crowing in delight as the score was equalled. Sandor’s face was thunder and he looked as though he would thump the next person who scored. Brienne decided that it was therefore time to call it a day. Renly started trying to persuade her to stay for just five more minutes, but she finally glanced at her watch and realised she was late – very late. 

She hurtled back over to where she had abandoned her shopping some time ago and began to run in the direction of her street. She was in such a hurry that she didn’t notice the small, dark-haired girl watching her with interest as she sped off in the direction of home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's footballing prowess is spotted and she agrees to do something she may later regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made Arya a similar age to Brienne in order for them to both be able to play in the same team. Not ideal I know, but needs must!
> 
> I'm afraid you won't be meeting Jaime just yet... but I have already written chapter three and can reassure you that you will definitely meet him in the next update!
> 
> Enjoy and thank you to everyone who has made such nice comments so far. :)

Bursting through the door Brienne shouted out a greeting to her father. She could smell cooking, although mingled in with the appetising smell of roasted meat was the definite aroma of something burning.

“Where have you been?!” called her father from the kitchen. He sounded frazzled, and Brienne realised with a guilty pang that she had abandoned him to wrestle with the roast and all the trimmings by himself. 

“I’m sorry, I had to go to a couple of shops as they had sold out of some things,” Brienne replied. Her father’s head suddenly popped around the kitchen door. Brienne felt her face flush red as he took in her dishevelled appearance and the grass stains on her jeans. Even if she had been a better liar, her clothes gave the game away. 

“I didn’t know you had to play football in the park in order to pay for mustard these days,” he said, not ungently, raising a bushy grey eyebrow as he did so. “Go clean yourself up and then you can help me shred this bird.” Carving was never his strongest suit. 

Brienne kissed him quickly on the cheek and ran upstairs to her room. It hadn’t changed much over the years since they had moved in – the walls were completely covered in various football stars, especially those of Tarth Club, the team of her homeland. Stuffed in various drawers and the wardrobe were shorts, football socks and other sporting paraphernalia, including a deflated football or two, some muddy football boots that she had outgrown aeons ago and medals from cross country running. Glancing round, Brienne thought back to the bathing beauties in the park. “I bet they don’t have bedrooms like this,” she sighed. 

Shrugging, she shed her now-stained clothes and opted for another comfortable ensemble of grey tracksuit bottoms and another polo shirt. Sunday best be damned. 

After dinner had been consumed and she and her father had watched their fill of Sunday night family TV, Brienne took herself up to bed and began secretly watching the catch-up programme she had missed earlier. Tarth Club hadn’t played this week, but King’s Landing United had, although they played abysmally, a little like Renly’s team before she came along, she thought with a smile. The team just hadn’t been the same since Jaime Lannister left after he wrecked his knee. He’d been their star player, and although Brienne had gathered from press interviews that he could be an arrogant and, frankly, deeply unlikeable person, he could play football like no one else. Some more spiteful commentators said that the premature end to his career was fair karma after the mysterious events that had surrounded the death of King’s Landing United’s old coach several years ago… 

Shaking her head, Brienne finally turned out her light and went to sleep. 

The summer stretched before her, empty of everything apart from waiting for her exam results. She felt nervous thinking about them – she needed good grades in order to get into King’s Landing University to study physiotherapy. If she didn’t get them, she really didn’t know what she would do career-wise. 

With no college to go to and no revision to get in the way of enjoying herself, Brienne ended up spending most of her time with Renly, her best friend. They’d met on the first day of college. As she’d anticipated, the other students had stared at her and made comments loud enough for her to hear and hurtful enough to make her cower inside. She was tall, dressed like a boy and had short hair. Although school had been worse, college students were still immature enough to make her feel out of place and unwanted. At least, she felt that way until Renly took her under his wing. 

She’d been so surprised that day when he had approached her in the canteen. He was one of the most popular people in college – he seemed to know everyone’s names and all the other students were desperate to have him in their friendship group. Brienne had noticed him around, it was hard not to considering his popularity and the fact that he was also dazzlingly handsome. Even Brienne could not fail to miss this, and disinterested as she thought she was in boys, she had to admit that he had the whole package – he had dark, thick hair and a pair of bright blue eyes that reflected the smile he almost always wore. He was also always impeccably dressed in a way that showed off his lean, broad-shouldered physique. For all these reasons, Brienne had felt herself blush all over as she saw that he was heading in her direction. It had been such a small thing but it had changed her life – he invited her to sit with his friends for lunch, and somehow she had managed to stutter out an acceptance. They’d sat with each other ever since and had gradually become inseparable, giving Brienne the kind of friendship she’d always wanted. 

Since her ill-advised football playing on that Sunday afternoon, Renly had managed to convince her to join in on several other kick-abouts in the park. She felt some of her old skill starting to come back, and loved watching her opponents’ faces as they realised she was more than a match for them. 

It was a Saturday afternoon and blisteringly hot, not the best day to run around chasing a football. Brienne was dripping with sweat and red in the face, but happy because the other team had finally admitted defeat when she had scored yet another goal. Most of the boys were tearing off their shirts to cool down, and she longed to do the same, but the thought of exposing any of her white, muscular flesh filled her with too much horror. Instead, she flopped down on the grass next to Renly, and tried not to notice quite how good he looked half-naked. 

He suddenly nudged her and gestured behind her. “That girl’s been watching you a few times now.” 

She looked over her shoulder to see who he was referring to. As if she had heard what he had said, the small, dark-haired girl who had been watching on a nearby bench got up and approached them. 

“Hi!” she said as she got within speaking distance. Renly beamed his usual charming smile and returned her greeting while Brienne mustered a quiet “Hello”. 

The girl nodded her head towards Brienne. “You’re good; do you play for any side?” 

Brienne was taken aback, “A side? No, I just play occasionally here in the park.” 

The girl grinned in response. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say. You should come and try out for my team; we could use a new striker like you.” 

Brienne looked back at her baffled, “Do you really think I’m good enough?” 

“Sure,” she replied. “I’ve been watching you over the last couple of weeks and you’ve definitely got talent. We could make a top player out of you.” 

Renly suddenly interrupted, “And who is ‘we’ exactly?” 

“Oh sorry, I perhaps should have mentioned that first! I play for King’s Maidens; it’s an all-girls side. We play competitively all over Westeros and abroad, too. You’d really fit in.” 

Renly looked at Brienne, “You should definitely have a go!” Brienne wasn’t so sure; the thought of exposing herself and her skills to a bunch of highly competitive girls sounded like her worst nightmare. Renly nudged her again, “You were complaining about not being able to play in your old mixed team anymore – this is the perfect solution!” 

Sensing Brienne’s hesitance, the girl piped up, “Just come along for a try-out. It’s up to our coach whether or not you get in, but if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come back.” 

They both looked at her expectantly. “OK,” Brienne eventually muttered. 

“Great!” exclaimed the girl. She suddenly thrust out a hand. “I’m Arya by the way.” 

“Brienne.” They shook hands and Arya gave her the details of where to go for her trial run. A flutter of excitement ran through her, but also fear. What if she wasn’t good enough? And what if she made a fool out of herself? Well, it was too late to back out now…


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne arrives for her trial and meets the coach of the King's Maidens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chapter I was very nervous to write as it finally introduces the character we have all been waiting for... Just a few notes: I've made Jaime younger than he is in the TV series and the books as I didn't want the age gap between him and Brienne to be too unrealistic and creepy given that she is aged about 18 in this fic. Also, for obvious reasons that I should have acknowledged earlier, it is his knee that has been injured, and not his hand.
> 
> I've loved reading all of your comments while I was away, so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update. :)

Brienne felt as though she had turned her whole room upside-down. Clothes were dangling out of her cupboard drawers and her wardrobe hung open, its doors drunkenly askew. The carpet could no longer be seen beneath the debris that now littered it, but Brienne, who was usually so conscientious when it came to tidiness, couldn’t bring herself to care. She had been searching for her last pair of football boots, and she had eventually found them only to find that she must have had yet another growth spurt in the interim period. The boots, which were still speckled with mud and grass from her last game played back in school, were now far too small. Even curled toes and a strong will couldn’t get them to fit.

“UGH!” she cried, flinging them across the room. They hit the wall and let fly a smatter of mud. It was the day of the trial, and last minute, she realised it would probably be a good idea to be properly kitted out. She knew that all the other girls would be wearing football boots, so she thought that by wearing them herself she could at least attempt to fit in. Now, even that avenue was closed to her - she would have to go in her bashed up trainers. 

Muttering to herself, she laced up the offending shoes, wilfully ignoring the mess around her, and then picked up her rucksack and headed downstairs. “Bye Dad!” she shouted from the door. 

“Have fun with Renly! I’ll see you at dinner!” he replied. 

Guilt coursed through her. She had lied, and for once, her father hadn’t seen through it. Brienne didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. She knew it was wrong and had debated telling him since she had returned home after receiving Arya’s unexpected offer. But she was so afraid he would try to put her off – he had witnessed her tears and anger in the face of persistent bullying for years, and he would want to keep her safe at home where she would be spared any potential ridicule from a new group of bullies. But Brienne didn’t want to hide away and deny herself something she wanted to do – not anymore. She promised herself that if she was successful she would tell him, and although she still felt uncomfortable about hiding the truth for now, making that promise assuaged some of the guilt. 

Pushing these thoughts aside, Brienne hurried out of the door. Her frantic search had made her late – what a way to make a great first impression. 

She jogged her way to the training grounds, too late and too nervous to hang around waiting for a bus that may never come. The King’s Maidens shared their training grounds with King’s Landing City FC, the smaller and less successful King’s Landing football club. Brienne had never been there before, and to her, it looked like a very professional set-up. Feeling daunted, she wandered through the entrance to the grounds and made her way to the pitch. A few club members were milling around, and as usual, they gave her curious looks and a few outright stares. 

As she had feared, she was late. In the middle of the pitch a group of girls were being put through their paces with a vigorous warm-up of sprints, star jumps and tuck jumps. They were all wearing the kit of their club – navy shorts and bright red shirts. Great, thought Brienne, that will make me look even more red-faced than usual, and I’ll have to wear shorts, too – IF I get in… 

She hovered uncertainly at the edge of the pitch, trying desperately to gather up the courage to approach the group. She suddenly wished she had agreed to Renly’s offer of coming along. She thought it would look stupid to be ‘escorted’ there by a friend, but at least he would have given her the push she needed – both literally and metaphorically. 

As if sensing her discomfort, one of the girls suddenly halted mid-sprint and waved her arm wildly at her. Brienne recognised Arya and gave an awkward wave back. Stepping onto the pitch, she dithered between jogging and walking over. Unable to decide, and feeling incredibly awkward, she did an ungainly trot to where Arya was making her way over to her. 

To her surprise, the girl gave her a welcoming hug. “I thought you weren’t coming!” she exclaimed. Brienne felt a warmth in her chest at the sight of Arya’s evident relief and pleasure at seeing her. She mumbled something incomprehensible as Arya wrapped her in another bear-hug. 

“Let’s introduce you to Coach,” said Arya, finally releasing her. She took Brienne’s arm and began to drag her in the direction of a young man, whose back was currently turned to them as he bellowed out instructions to the other girls. 

“He can be a bit of a prick, but he’s good at what he does,” murmured Arya in warning. 

If Brienne was nervous before, she was positively a shivering wreck now. Her mouth had gone dry and her hands felt clammy. For Gods’ sake! It was just a trial for a stupid football team, she cursed herself mentally. Only, she knew that it wasn’t – this was her chance to do something she loved, something she thought she was good at. Rejection would be hard to deal with. 

“Coach!” called Arya as they approached the man. Brienne noticed that he was almost of a height with her and well-built. He had longish blond hair that glinted gold in the sunshine and skin that spoke of a love of the outdoors, being tanned and burnished by the sun. 

Then he turned and Brienne could not stop herself from starting in surprise. Before her stood Jaime Lannister, the former star of King’s Landing United. 

She felt her mouth opening and closing like a fish, but she could not find a single word to say. He was even more unbelievably handsome in real life. She’d never really considered it before when she’d watched him play on TV. She considered the screaming female fans who were pictured chasing him in the tabloids to be ridiculous idiots, while the eulogies made about his appearance in the media detracted from what Brienne thought was the most important thing – his talent at playing football. 

But now he was stood in front of her, a slight frown marring his perfect features. His hair flopped slightly over his eyes in an artfully dishevelled way, drawing attention to his high cheekbones and strong jawline. But it was his eyes that brought everything into harmony – they were emerald green with an intensity of colour that almost seemed unnatural. And those eyes were staring right at her, looking her slowly up and down. Brienne felt her face flush into the deepest scarlet. 

Thankfully, Arya cut into the silence created by Brienne’s inability to speak a single syllable. “This is Brienne, the girl I told you about. She’s here for a trial.” One of Jaime’s arched eyebrows rose in a questioning way, while he glanced sharply at Arya. Arya glared back. “She’s good. Give her a try.” The two faced off for a minute, leaving Brienne shuffling uncomfortably, not knowing where to look. 

“Fine,” he eventually huffed out. “Where do you usually play?” 

“I….in the park,” Brienne stuttered. Arya smothered a laugh. 

Jaime rolled his eyes and said slowly and mockingly, “No, I mean in what _position_ do you play?” 

Brienne flushed an even brighter red. “Up front. I prefer the right.” 

Jaime nodded at the first comprehensible answer Brienne had been able to give. “OK, put on your boots and get warmed up.” 

Now Brienne really did wish that the floor would swallow her up whole. She stuttered, trying to get the words out. Jaime had been turning away in dismissal, but at the sound of her strangled words he turned back, an exasperated look upon his face. 

“I… I don’t have any…” she finally managed to squeak out. Jaime now shot a particularly venomous look in Arya’s direction, which was returned in kind. 

“She can get boots later. One session won’t hurt,” Arya argued. 

Jaime’s jaw tightened. “Go warm up.” 

Acutely aware of his angry eyes on her back, Brienne jogged off with Arya to finish the warm-up. I’ll never come back, she promised herself. I’ll get through this one embarrassing session and then I’ll go home and forget all about it. I knew it was a mistake...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial begins and Brienne meets her teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for you! I was going to upload this yesterday, but then I couldn't, so sorry for the delay. It has given me time to write a pretty lengthy chapter five for you though, so I'm looking forward to posting that.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments so far. I loved reading about Jaime's reception - 'jerk' being the most common reaction! I'm looking forward to seeing how you all react to him over the next few chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!

Brienne managed to hold her own in the warm-up, which was as tiring and as demanding of physical fitness as she had suspected from her vantage point at the side of the pitch. At least that gained her some respect from the other girls, who gave her curious glances when they thought she wasn’t looking.

Once they were warm and breathing heavily, Jaime divided the group into two teams, handing one a set of coloured shirts to wear. Brienne was put into Arya’s team, for which she was thankful. She felt incredibly ill at ease, so having at least one friendly teammate was reassuring. 

Jaime approached and handed her a shirt. “Let’s see what the Maid can do,” he said, his green eyes mocking. 

“My name’s _Brienne_ ,” she retorted, drawing herself up. But he only laughed and took up a vantage point halfway across the pitch. Acutely aware that now was the time to impress him, Brienne moved into position and set her jaw. 

Jaime blew the whistle and the match began. Initially Brienne felt at sea – she was used to playing with people she knew, whose tactics and preferred moves were well-known to her. But when Arya passed the ball to her with a shout, her brain clicked into gear. 

She swerved around an aggressive-looking redhead who was attempting to mark her and then sprinted up the pitch, legs burning, narrowly avoiding a tackle from a very small, determined girl with curly hair. She then found her way barred, but she picked up the distant shout of Jaime’s voice. “Give it to Arya!” he yelled. She looked up and sent the ball spinning into Arya’s exact position, enabling her to take it on towards the goal. Arya dodged the last defender and sent the ball shooting squarely into the back of the net, just out of the goalie’s reach. She screeched with delight and enveloped Brienne in another bear hug, while the others in their team bounded across to join in. 

The rest of the session flew by; Brienne tackled and dodged, sprinted and marked, and she even managed to put a few goals into her opponents’ net. She completely forgot about being watched and judged, and therefore missed the silent thumbs up Jaime gave Arya towards the end of the game. The ending whistle came as a complete surprise to her, and she suddenly came back into herself and realised how tired, thirsty and incredibly _muddy_ she was. Arya jogged over and gave her a high five. “How’d you find it?” she asked. 

Brienne beamed, all her wide teeth showing. “It was great – much better competition than I get in the park!” 

“Huh, wait until you come up against Lannisport Ladies F.C. They’re our toughest and closest competition,” replied Arya. 

Brienne blushed. “Well, if I’m allowed to play for the team…” she trailed off. Thinking about being told never to come back again after having such an amazing time was terrifying, and she had forgotten all about her self-made promises to walk away from the club and never look back. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Of COURSE you’re in! Didn’t you see the way Coach was watching you?” 

Brienne’s face flushed at the thought. “No, I was too busy playing.” 

“As you should be,” said a voice behind them. Brienne turned to see Jaime saunter over to them, smiling insouciantly. She stared at him, and then realised she was staring, and so began to awkwardly flick her eyes around, unsure of a safe resting place for them. 

“Alright wench, you can play, I’ll give you that. And we need a bit of extra _strength_ up front,” he stated, running his insolent eyes up and down her broad body. His veiled reference to her size and muscular shape brought Brienne’s eyes back to his in a flash. She gave him her most withering stare, but his grin only stretched wider. 

“We train hard here to get results. If you’re expecting me to babysit you and have emotional heart-to-hearts when training doesn’t go to plan, then this isn’t the club for you. I’m harsh, but fair. If you miss too much training, don’t expect me to put you on the field. Is that clear?” he said authoritatively, giving Brienne the impression that he was used to being obeyed. 

“Fine,” grunted Brienne, still annoyed at his treatment of her. 

Jaime grinned again, and Brienne couldn’t help but notice the charming way it made his green eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. “Welcome to the team, Freckles. I’ll see you at the next session.” And with that, he sauntered off, although Brienne noticed that he limped slightly on his right leg, the only hint at his career-ending injury. 

“My name’s BRIENNE!” she shouted after him, but the only response she got was his laughter. 

Arya chuckled next to her. “I’m afraid you will have to get used to that. He’s always coming up with imaginative insults or nicknames for everyone.” 

“And you just put up with that?” Brienne asked, astounded. 

“No. You just have to come up with some insults of your own, and then you’ll get on just fine,” replied Arya with a grin. “Come on, if you’re going to be in the team you’d better be introduced to the others!” 

Brienne once again felt her arm being tugged in the direction of the other girls, who were milling about outside the changing room after having stopped to watch the exchange between their coach and Brienne. 

Brienne stood awkwardly in front of them all, but surprisingly enough, they greeted her with enthusiasm. “Don’t let Lannister get you down,” said a girl called Ygritte. “He came up with all sorts of names for me when I joined. He still calls me Wildling even now.” Brienne smiled at the reassurance, but then creased her brow. “How come he is coaching an amateur girls’ team anyhow?” she questioned as they all made their way into the changing room. “I mean, I know he can’t play himself anymore, but why isn’t he helping to coach a professional men’s team?” 

Most of the girls just shrugged their shoulders. “Maybe he couldn’t get anything better,” said a girl called Meera, a little uncharitably. “Who cares?” butted in Arya. “All that matters is that we’ve won more games in the last couple of seasons since he joined.” 

The team captain, a stunning girl with silver hair and large, almost violet eyes named Dany sidled up to Brienne. “Maybe he just likes looking at girls running around in shorts,” she said mischievously. The other girls laughed, but Brienne felt distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Nah, I bet he’s gay,” retorted Arya. “After all, he’s never pictured with any girls, unless they are random fans who chase him down the street.” A few of the others nodded their agreement, but for some reason, Brienne felt a little disappointed at the idea. _Idiot_ , she thought to herself. Don’t turn into a blushing adolescent just because you like his pretty face. She pushed these thoughts to one side and concentrated on what Dany was saying to her. “We’ll order you a kit, but it probably won’t come until next week,” she informed her. Brienne shuddered, mentally picturing the ‘large’ size shirt and… shorts. 

“Do I _have_ to wear shorts?” she pleaded. Dany nodded. “’Fraid so, unless you want Coach on your ass for not being dressed properly.” Brienne sighed. Sensing her discomfort, Dany reached up and placed a kind hand on her shoulder. “No need to worry, you’re among friends here,” she said. Brienne looked round and weighed up her words, hoping fervently that Dany was right. But then Dany suddenly leaned forward to whisper loudly at her, “Besides, you’ve got _killer_ legs!” Brienne’s face went puce and the girls laughed good-naturedly at her, making cat-calls. After a while, Brienne joined in with their laughter and allowed herself to start feeling excited about joining the team. And, she hated to admit, she was also very much looking forward to getting some coaching from Jaime Lannister - just because he was a talented player, of course.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training begins but first Brienne has to overcome her biggest opponent - herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a nice long chapter for you, running at around triple the length of the others! I seem to have re-written this over and over, and I'm still not happy with it, but I think messing around with it any more will be to no purpose. So, here it is for your delectation! It includes one of my favourite moments in the film, so I hope you like it!

Training was three days a week and as soon as Brienne got home from her successful trial she started looking forward to her first proper session. She must have looked like an idiot as she strolled home as she couldn’t stop herself from smiling broadly, revealing all her large teeth – a smile that was rarely called into being.

She thought back over every minute of the trial – every pass she had made, each score she had managed to net. She also thought about her new teammates and her growing camaraderie with Arya. Her father would love her, she was sure: she was feisty and spoke her own mind, traits her father valued. 

Then she thought about Jaime Lannister. She couldn’t quite believe he was now her coach. To be given an opportunity to train under his expert eye was overwhelming, and she still felt unworthy of it. But he was also just as unpleasant and rude as he had appeared in all of his post-match press interviews. The smile on her face was quickly replaced with a scowl when she thought of his mocking names for her. ‘Freckles’ and ‘Maid’ were hardly endearing terms, especially when they were said in a voice laced with casual disdain, and she felt sure he was bound to come up with ever more imaginative monikers in the weeks to come. Well, she knew how to deal with people like him. Her defensive wall was well-built and able to withstand any attack. She wouldn’t let him ruin her new-found enjoyment of playing as a member of King’s Maidens – she’d turned away from things she’d loved too many times before because of the spite of others, and this time, nothing was going to stop her. 

***********************************************************************************************************************************

She’d been counting down the hours until her first proper session as a King’s Maiden player, but as she approached the training ground again her apprehension grew. Yesterday she’d made the mistake of looking up Jaime’s past matches and evaluating his performance - she’d known he was an excellent player, but now that she was focusing her attention on him alone, it became clear he was something of a prodigy. 

His ability to deftly take the ball from an opponent and dodge tackles was instinctive, and his precision when scoring left Brienne feeling distinctly envious. His one fault was a certain amount of selfishness and possessiveness on the pitch, which meant he was reluctant to cede the ball to his teammates, but this behaviour seemed to have been on the decline as he aged and grew as a player. 

By the time she had sifted through hundreds of news articles and watched hours of footage, Brienne felt the premature end of his career keenly. He had been just 16 when he made it onto the big stage and been signed to King’s Landing United, and he was only 21 when it had all come to an end. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be _that_ good and then have it all taken away by a mindless tackle, and she felt the first twinge of sympathy for him. 

Jaime’s sporting prowess was not the only thing she investigated. Once she’d satisfied herself on Jaime’s credentials as a player, she’d then indulged her baser curiosity and read all there had been written on Jaime’s alleged connection with the death of Aerys Targaryen – the manager of King’s Landing United. 

The details were sketchy and, she was relieved to find, seemed to be based on nothing more than hearsay and speculation. Aerys had died from trauma caused by a head injury, which an inquest deemed was the result of a fall. However, the circumstances of this fall were ripe for scandal: Aerys was injured on the night that King’s Landing United failed to win the premier league, and some reports claimed that Jaime had been heard arguing with him after match. However, he was never questioned by the police and the inquest was closed with no further appeals. Nevertheless, Jaime earned the nickname ‘Kingslayer’, which was a term subsequently bandied about on a regular basis by the trashier tabloids. Satisfied that there was nothing else to know, Brienne finally ended her research, feeling that now at least she had a measure of the man. 

As she entered the training ground she was beset by a confusion of emotions: she still felt somewhat sorry for the once-glorious star of King’s Landing United, but she also feared his barbed comments. She also, she hated to admit, felt her inferiority as a player and dreaded him judging her and finding her wanting. 

Things didn’t get much better when she tentatively crept into the changing rooms. She was immediately beset by the sight of the team in various states of undress, revealing flat stomachs, toned legs, and curves in places that on Brienne were hardened planes of muscle. Her feeling of ill-ease was only somewhat lessened by Arya’s bright smile. 

“Brienne!” she shouted above the din of the other girls’ chatter. Brienne wove her way towards her, trying desperately not to look at anyone. 

Arya grinned again as Brienne finally made it to where she was sitting on a bench. “I’ve got you something!” she said excitedly, digging around in a large sports bag. “I hope they fit – they were my brother’s and he wasn’t using them any more so I ‘liberated’ them for you.” 

Brienne was overcome with surprise when a pair of football boots was placed in her hands. Sure, they were a little worn, but they were still sturdy and would give her the grip she needed on the grass pitch. Arya was watching her face expectantly, her wolfish grin now reaching epic proportions. 

“ _Thank you_ ,” said Brienne earnestly. “I hadn’t had time to get myself a pair yet. Are you _sure_ your brother won’t miss them?” 

Arya waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, they have been abandoned in his room since he went to uni. He’ll never know! I know they’re not great, but I thought they’d tide you over until you had chance to buy your own. I think they’re you’re size.” 

Brienne gave her a wide-toothed smile and looked at the boots reverentially before quickly changing into them, throwing her useless trainers to one side. Arya was right – they fit perfectly. 

As she walked out of the changing rooms, she felt some confidence starting to seep into her. The other girls had tossed her friendly greetings, and now they were all making their way over to the pitch, laughing and talking loudly. Jaime was lounging against the post of the entrance gate, chucking mocking smiles and occasional quips at the girls as they filed past. But when Brienne, who was last, tried to make her way through, the gateway was instantly barred by his lithe form. 

“So the Maid has returned to fight another day?” he said by way of greeting, his bright green eyes dancing. He glanced down at her boots. “At least you have made some effort to come properly dressed this time,” he commented, making Brienne’s face flush. He paused, before his eyes returned to her face. “However, no player of mine goes onto the pitch without wearing the correct kit.” Saying this, he suddenly brandished a plastic bag and pulled out a red shirt and a pair of navy shorts. Brienne’s eyes widened in horror. 

Tasting blood, Jaime’s smile widened into a feral grin. He handed her the kit and went back to leaning against the gatepost. “You’re a _very_ lucky girl – usually these kits take about a week to arrive, but I got this one sent express, just for you. Get changed and then join us on the pitch.” 

He turned to go, but Brienne let out a strangled cry. “Can’t I just wear the shirt, and not the shorts? Please not the shorts!” 

Jaime instantly turned back and stood so he was facing off with her. “If My Lady wants to play, then she has to follow her Lord Commander’s rules. And one of my rules is that everyone has to wear the team kit.” He stepped closer so that Brienne could detect his scent: it reminded her of a pine forest with the ground freshened by rain. It was a soothing smell, but his smile was far from comforting, with all teeth bared in a mocking grin. “If My Lady is too modest, then perhaps she shouldn’t be playing football. I hear there is a nice knitting group that meets around the corner, perhaps you’d rather be there?” 

Anger flashed through Brienne and she snatched the kit out of his hands. Jaime continued to smile at her, before nodding his head in the direction of the changing room. “Be quick, the warm-up will start soon.” 

Brienne returned to the now empty changing room and began to reluctantly change out of her safe tracksuit bottoms and loose polo shirt, cursing Jaime Lannister all the while. All sympathy for him had now evaporated, leaving anger and embarrassment coursing in its wake. She finished changing and moved over to a mirror hanging on the wall to see the effect. She knew she shouldn’t, but the temptation was irresistible. 

She saw what she expected: her fine, straw-coloured hair was sticking up from where she had roughly thrust the shirt over her head, and her cheeks were warm and pink from her altercation with Jaime. The red shirt clashed with her pale, freckled skin, and poking out of her shorts were her long, muscled legs, also adorned with fine freckles. She looked back at herself and saw her large, blue eyes begin to swim with tears. Being dressed like this made her feel naked and vulnerable, and it took her last shred of courage to finally tiptoe out of the changing rooms. 

She got to the edge of the pitch and saw the girls huddled in a group doing star jumps, Jaime’s instructions echoing across the ground. She tried to go over to them, but was seized with fear. She just couldn’t do it – surely they would all stare at her and then burst out laughing? After all, she looked _ridiculous_. 

Filled with despair, she sank down onto a stadium seat and curled herself into the smallest ball possible, absently watching her teammates carry out their warm-up, not knowing what to do with herself. 

She’d been there for some minutes when she saw Jaime’s tall figure turn round, searching for her. She couldn’t see his face this far away, but she could imagine him narrowing his eyes as he spotted her pathetic form trying to hide among the empty rows of seats. He called to someone and Arya approached him. Relief washed through Brienne – perhaps he would send Arya over and she could explain that she was leaving, and that it had all been a mistake. 

But to her horror, Arya simply took his position at the front of the group and started to lead the exercises while Jaime began to stride back towards her. For a moment, she considered running away – his limp and distance would mean he wouldn’t be able to catch her – but she didn’t want to be any more of a coward than she already was, so she simply sat and watched his approach with wary eyes. 

He stopped just in front of her, his now-familiar frown firmly in place. “What are you doing? You’re missing the warm-up.” 

Brienne only curled up into a tighter ball and turned her gaze away. Jaime sighed in exasperation and folded his arms. “Well? What’s the matter, wench?” 

“I just… can’t,” Brienne finally muttered. Still looking away, she could sense him rolling his eyes. 

“Can’t what?” 

Brienne gestured to herself, but Jaime continued to be obtuse. “You will have to use words girl, like everyone else. Normal people don’t communicate primarily with body language now, you know.” 

Brienne scowled at his flippancy and suddenly burst out: “You don’t know what it’s like! I _can’t_ go out dressed like this; everyone will laugh, just like they always do. ‘There she goes, Brienne the Beauty, isn’t she a monster of a girl?’ But you wouldn’t understand that, would you, because you just have to smile and the world smiles back.” 

Silence followed her outburst and Brienne felt tears once again threatening to trickle down her face. Biting her lip to keep them at bay, she focused on trying to calm down, slowly breathing in and out. She expected Jaime to tell her to leave, or reply with another barbed comment, but to her surprise he sighed and took a seat next to her. She felt uncomfortable at the proximity, keenly aware that her legs were nearly touching his. They sat in silence for a moment, neither one making an effort to speak or move. Suddenly, Jaime propped up his right leg and began to roll the trouser leg up. Brienne looked at him in confusion, until she saw the long, surgical scars that crisscrossed his knee joint. Jaime looked down at his leg silently, lightly tracing his fingers over the bumpy, lined flesh. Finally he spoke, but in a voice so quiet and altered from normal that it took Brienne by surprise. “Six operations and it’s still useless,” he began, still staring at his scars. “I can’t walk without a limp, let alone kick a damn ball.” 

Brienne could hear the repressed hurt in his voice and her sympathy won out. “Does it hurt?” she asked quietly. 

He looked at her, emerald meeting sapphire. “A bit,” he admitted, turning way again. “Enough to mean that I can’t forget what happened.” Abruptly, he rolled the trouser leg back down and turned to face her again, demanding her attention. “My knee may be ruined, which means I can’t do the only thing I’ve ever been good at,” he began, anger creeping into his voice. “But yours isn’t, and there is no reason why you shouldn’t go out there.” 

Brienne squirmed in her seat, feeling uncomfortable under his blazing eyes. “No one will look at you when you’re scoring goals and kicking the opposition into the dirt,” he continued, his green eyes locking with Brienne’s, “so don’t let a bunch of fools stop you from doing what you love, because if I had the chance to play again, I’d do it no matter what people said to me, or _who_ said it.” 

Brienne was too shocked to speak at first, and she vaguely wondered whom he had been referring to when he said that it didn’t matter who tried to stand in the way. Slowly she realised that Jaime’s burning eyes were still on her and that he was expecting a reply of some sorts, so she managed a weak smile. “I thought you said you didn’t give heart-to-hearts?” she finally said. Jaime’s expression changed instantly, a wolfish smile re-appearing. His eyes sparkled, the blaze of earlier only a memory. “Oh, don’t think you’re getting away with soft treatment, wench. The punishment for avoiding the warm-up is fifty press-ups, although you’d probably find that too easy, so I may make it a hundred. We’d better re-join the group so you can get started.” He waited, looking at her expectantly. 

Brienne hesitated for a moment, weighing up her options. Eventually her desire to train won out, so she sighed and slowly uncurled from her position. Jaime rose and gave her a mocking bow, waving her to the entrance of the pitch. “After you, My Lady,” he said. Brienne scowled at him before striding out onto the pitch and moving towards her waiting friends, Jaime trailing along behind, his infuriating grin firmly in place. 

She felt as though everyone was staring at her and her bare legs when she approached the group, but Arya gave her an encouraging smile and she tried to push her self-consciousness out of her mind. Soon the demanding nature of the session made her forget that she was wearing shorts and baring her pale, freckled legs to the world, and she found that she was enjoying herself again. 

At the end of training, Brienne gratefully rushed back to the safety of the changing room and got back into her comfy clothes, shoving the hated shorts and shirt into her rucksack. She’d have to wash them while her father was out so he didn’t see them – she still hadn’t told him, despite her earlier promise to. Bringing up the subject had felt too uncomfortable, and she was still afraid that his worrying would make her lose the small amount of courage she had to keep on attending. She’d just have to wait until she was brave enough, she decided. 

Arya perched herself next to Brienne, her face speckled with mud from the training grounds. She watched Brienne silently for a few minutes before poking her in the ribs to get her attention. “You OK now?” she asked, concern in her eyes. 

Brienne blushed with shame but smiled back. “Yes I’m fine. I was just being a wimp, although I still hate the shorts.” 

Arya grinned at that. “Trust me,” she said, “you _really_ don’t have to worry about the shorts.” She paused, chewing over what she wanted to say next. “Coach wasn’t mean to you, was he? He can be a real shit sometimes, and I’d hate it if he put you off playing with us.” 

“Oh no!” Brienne replied instantly. “He was fine, nice in fact… Well, he was still being him but he got me back on the pitch, which I don’t think I would have done on my own.” 

Arya looked surprised, her eyebrows raised nearly into her hairline. “You’re serious?” she asked incredulously. Brienne nodded, unnerved by her reaction. “Huh, maybe he was drunk or something,” Arya muttered. Shrugging, she stood up. “So, we’ll still see you at the next training session?” she asked hopefully. 

Brienne grinned and got ready to go. “Yep, I’ll see you in a couple of days!” Arya beamed and went back to her bags, still shaking her head over what Brienne had said. 

***********************************************************************************************************************************

The next few sessions went by in a blur and Brienne really started to bond with her teammates and grow in confidence, so much so that when Renly texted after training finished asking her to join him in the park to show off her new skills, she didn’t even bother changing out of her kit. She hadn’t seen him as much since she had joined the team, and she wanted to tell him all about the club and her teammates. 

“Brienne!” She looked round, hearing his cheery shout before she actually spotted him. He was standing with his usual footie gang, including Loras, who seemed to be becoming a permanent shadow of his. She jogged over and was wrapped up in a welcoming hug. Renly then let go to stand back and admire her kit. “You look great Brienne!” he said with a genuine smile. “You look like a professional!” Brienne blushed at his praise, trying to ignore the looks the other guys were giving her. “Thanks Renly. It’s really amazing. The other girls on the team are great and the coach really knows what he’s doing.” 

“Does he now?” said Renly, raising his eyebrows. “And who is this coach?” Brienne hesitated before admitting that it was Jaime Lannister. Renly’s surprise was obvious: “What? THE Jaime Lannister is teaching you? Hell, you are definitely playing on my side no matter what from now on! What’s he like?” 

“He’s…” Brienne hesitated, trying to think of a way to describe her coach, whose mercurial moods made it hard to know where you stood. Her pause made Renly chuckle. “I think you’ve told me all I need to know!” he said, smiling. “Wasn’t there some weird scandal about him and his manager when he was a teenager?” 

Brienne nodded, although she didn’t know much about it apart from the media speculation she had read during her research. “Yeah, there were some rumours that he was involved in Aerys Targaryen’s death, although nothing was proved,” she replied. “I don’t believe them; Jaime may be a bit of a jerk but he wouldn’t do something like that.” Renly raised his eyebrows again, intrigued by her strong defense of her coach. He opened his mouth to say something else when Sandor’s harsh voice cut in: “Hey guys! Look at who has her pasty legs out! Is that for us? If so, you needn’t have bothered.” He laughed, some of the others joining in. 

“Quit it, Sandor,” Renly immediately replied, turning back to Brienne. “Don’t listen to him, he’s an arsehole,” he said, concerned about her reaction. But Brienne just shrugged and said loud enough for Sandor to hear: “It doesn’t bother me. He’s just worried because he can be beaten at football by a _girl_.” She then snatched the ball away from Sandor’s feet and started running to a goal, dodging the others as they tried to get in her way. Sandor roared in anger, but he failed to take the ball away from her, eventually resorting to a rough rugby tackle to take her down. 

Renly ran over, worried that she was hurt, but to his surprise she was laughing. This was a different Brienne to the one he had known all these years. Grinning, he helped her up and she brushed down her shirt, noting the new grass stains. Sandor was still grumbling on the floor, scowling up at her. She turned back to Renly, but he was looking behind her, a worried frown creasing his forehead. She turned and to her horror saw her father standing there, confusion writ plain on his face. Brienne’s heart dropped to the floor and she gripped Renly’s hand for support. She’d wanted to tell her father about the team in her own time, and now he was staring at her kit and her bare legs in consternation. Renly gave her a comforting squeeze before she let go of his supportive hand and slowly headed over to where her father was waiting.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has some awkward conversations with her father and Renly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter would be very hard to write while chapter five would be easy... turns out it was the other way around! I'm desperately scribbling up more story for you all although time is tight right now (I'm getting up early in the morning to write before work - you guys are worth it!), so sorry I can't update as often as some of you would like.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! There's an exciting chapter coming up...

Brienne had never felt so uncomfortable in all her life. She was sitting in the living room opposite her father, the clock on the mantelpiece ticking loudly in the heavy silence that surrounded them. He hadn’t said much on the walk back to their house, just looked at her as if he was deeply disappointed.

Brienne squirmed in her seat, wishing she was anywhere but here. Finally, just when she thought she couldn’t take the quiet any more, her father spoke. 

“I can’t believe you kept this from me Brienne,” he murmured, his hurt eyes resting on her. “Why did you lie about what you were doing?” 

Guilt washed through her like a wave. “I thought you’d stop me,” she whispered. “And I _really_ wanted to do it.” She looked at him beseechingly, but her father’s eyes were still heavy with sadness. He sighed. “I just want to _protect_ you, Brienne,” he said. “I’ve watched you crying in your room too many times now. It breaks my heart that other people don’t see what I see.” 

“But these girls _do_ ,” she said earnestly. “They’ve accepted me and I really feel as though I belong there.” 

Her father just sighed disbelievingly. “Perhaps they do, but that boy in the park was openly insulting you to your face, and then he attacked you!” he replied. 

Brienne shook her head vehemently. “No, we were just messing around, and he’s like that with everyone!” she protested, but her father didn’t look convinced. 

“I just don’t know what to think Brienne; you’ve never kept something like this from me before. And I just don’t know whether it is a good idea or not.” 

“It IS,” she cried. “I’m already becoming more confident and Jaime says…” 

Her father cut in suddenly. “Who’s Jaime?” 

Brienne wriggled under his searching eyes, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. “He’s the… the coach. Jaime Lannister.” 

Incredulity registered on her father’s face as she said this. “Jaime _Lannister_? That egocentric richboy who killed his manager and got away with it?” 

Brienne stuttered, not really knowing what to say. “Yes, I mean, NO… That was all just conjecture and he’s a really good coach, he…” 

Again her father cut in: “And what exactly would he be getting out of teaching a team of young, impressionable girls, hm?” he queried. “He doesn’t seem the sort to willingly give up his precious time to be a coach for an amateur _girl’s_ team. It all sounds very suspicious to me, Brienne.” 

She tried to protest and explain that he was wrong, wrong about _everything_ , but his mouth was set in a firm line that she knew all too well. “No Brienne, this has seriously worried me. I will not have a man like him ogle my daughter and strip her of the small amount of self-confidence she has left. If you must play, perhaps you can join a university club when you start studying, but I do not want you to go back there.” 

Tears began to stream down her face. “ _Please_ father,” she cried. “There was a tournament coming up and I was going to play…” 

“No,” he said firmly. Then, seeing her distress, he added more gently, “I know it seems harsh, but I’m your father and it’s my job to keep you safe. You will thank me for it one day.” He stood up and gently stroked her head. “Please don’t cry,” he pleaded, the anguish in his voice obvious. But Brienne couldn’t stop, and after a few moments she ran out of the room and locked herself upstairs. 

********************************************************************************* 

“It’s not fair!” wailed Brienne the next day. “Joining the team was one of the best things I’ve ever done and now I’m banned!” 

She was sitting on a park bench next to Renly, who had his arm wrapped around her in a vain attempt to comfort her. A faint drizzle was falling, and Brienne had forgotten her jacket, but right now she really didn’t care. Renly squeezed her shoulder, trying to calm her distress through physical touch. 

“At least he didn’t rule out playing football full stop,” he pointed out. “I’m sure King’s Landing University has a girls’ football team you can join.” 

Brienne snorted in an unlady-like way, shaking her head as she did so. “But uni doesn’t start until the autumn. I will miss the summer tournament I’ve been training for,” she whimpered, turning to Renly so he could see the despair in her face. “Besides, I don’t even know if I _will_ get into uni yet.” 

Renly rolled her eyes at her lack of confidence. “Brienne, you know you’ll get in! Stop dragging yourself down so much! You’re a brilliant, intelligent person and an incredible football player. You have so much going for you!” 

Brienne smiled weakly at his praise, loving him for saying it but not quite fully believing it. Renly carried on, his voice quieter now. “You could always keep playing,” he murmured. 

“And lie to my father again? I don’t think I could do that,” she replied, shocked. 

Renly paused, thinking over what he was going to say. “Sometimes,” he began in a soft voice, “parents don’t always know what’s best for you. Sometimes they choose your path in the belief that it is the best one, but it’s not. Sometimes we have to disappoint them by choosing our own way, but if it makes you _happy_ , then you should do it.” 

Renly turned his face away to stare into the grey drizzle of the park, his face thoughtful. Brienne frowned, puzzling over his cryptic words. Finally she spoke: “What are you talking about Renly? Has something happened?” Worry trickled through her. How selfish she had been! Something was obviously wrong with her best friend and she hadn’t noticed. 

Renly shuffled uncomfortably next to her, slowly turning worried eyes on her. “I’m gay Brienne,” he said quietly, his voice so low Brienne had to strain to hear it. “I’ve known for a long time but I was too scared to admit it. I didn’t know how to tell my family or…” he paused, watching her face intently. “Or you,” he added, unable to hold her gaze any longer. 

Brienne stared at him in shock, before all the pieces began to fall into place. “Loras…” she murmured, thinking things over in her head. 

Renly looked guilty. “Yes… I’d never really fallen for anyone before, so it didn’t matter, but with him…” he trailed off. “I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. You’re my best friend – please don’t hate me.” Brienne read terror in his eyes and the strong fear of rejection. Suddenly, she couldn’t help but laugh. Renly jerked back, surprised at her reaction. 

“I’m sorry!” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “It’s just that I’m sure my poor father thinks we will get married one day – imagine his surprise!” She burst into another fit of giggles, and to her relief, Renly joined in. 

“So, you really don’t mind?” he questioned, still watching her face carefully. 

“Of course not!” she replied, grinning at him. “I would have liked it if you’d confided in me earlier, but you’re my friend and I understand why you kept it to yourself.” She hugged him hard. “And I’m happy for you and Loras, you make a beautiful couple – a much better one than you and I!” 

“Stop beating yourself up Brienne!” he said with a laugh and a friendly push. “Anyway, it’s just as well or I would be getting very jealous of you mooning over your coach all day long.” 

Brienne blushed furiously. “I do _not_ ‘moon’ over him!” she retorted. “Besides,” she added sadly, “He’s not my coach anymore.” Renly wrapped his arm back around her and she lent into his embrace. 

They sat like that for some time before Brienne heard a voice she recognised shouting her name. “BRIENNE!” yelled a red-faced Arya from across the green. Brienne sat up a little more and gave her a wan smile. Arya was racing towards them, a football in her hands. Eventually she pulled up in front of her and Renly, breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear. Then she noticed Brienne’s sadness, and her face dropped. 

“Gods Brienne, what’s the matter? Are you OK?” she asked hurriedly, her face puckered with concern. 

“I’m OK, it’s just…” Brienne struggled to find the words. “My dad found out that I was playing with the King’s Maidens, and he doesn’t want me in the team any more.” She dropped her head, not wanting to see Arya’s shocked expression. 

“That’s just bollocks,” blurted Arya, causing Brienne to smile and Renly to chuckle next to her. “My mum never wanted me to play football. She wants me to be more like my sister, who is the perfect little lady,” she said venomously. “But you can’t take no for an answer! The tournament starts soon and we need you! Can’t you carry on anyway?” she pleaded. 

Brienne shook her head, her heart heavy in her chest. “I doubt it. He will be watching me like a hawk now and will question every time I go out.” 

Arya frowned, sharp creases appearing on her brow. Then her face lit up again and an impish grin reappeared. “Hey! Just tell him you’ve got a summer job! I can put in a good word for you at the store I work in and then you will have a legitimate excuse to go out of the house.” She beamed, delighted with her own cunning genius. 

Renly turned to Brienne. “That would work Brienne! Why not do it?” he questioned. 

Brienne could see the merits of the idea, but it would still mean concealing the truth from her father. But she _so_ wanted to stay in the team and play in the tournament… She wrestled with herself for a few minutes, keenly aware that both Arya and Renly were watching her intently. “Yes! I’ll do it!” she finally cried, her toothy grin breaking out. “Thank you Arya.” 

“No problem!” the other girl said with a wave of her hand. “So, fancy a quick game? I want to see what your boyfriend can do!” 

Renly and Brienne both blushed furiously, glancing at each other. “Oh! He’s not my…” Brienne began, but Arya was already dribbling her ball onto the grass. Renly shrugged and leapt up to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation, Brienne stood up to join their muddy game in the fresh summer rain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime have an altercation and Brienne goes shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your love for the last chapter! I hope this one is just as good. Just a warning - there have to be a few bumps on the road to happiness!
> 
> Enjoy!

Training for the summer tournament had begun in earnest, and Jaime hadn’t been lying when he told Brienne that he worked the team hard. Each session involved a punishing array of exercises that were designed to build strength and endurance, followed by a series of drills and, occasionally, a quick match.

As the team’s principal strikers, Arya and Brienne’s training was specifically focused on dodging defenders and creating opportunities to score. Taking penalties was a particular weakness with both girls, and Jaime was determined to iron it out. 

One day, long after the other girls had wearily left the pitch, Arya and Brienne took it in turns to shoot at a goal blocked by some dummy players, Jaime critiquing each shot. Eventually, as the sky began to darken, Arya reluctantly had to give up. 

“Gods it’s late. My mum will kill me if I am late for dinner. Are you coming Brienne?” she asked, picking up her water bottle and turning in the direction of the changing room. 

“No, not yet. I want to get this _right_ ,” replied Brienne in frustration. As a perfectionist, the idea of giving up before she had mastered this skill was insufferable. 

“OK then, I’ll see you soon,” Arya said with a wave, traipsing off the pitch. 

Brienne hardly saw her go, her attention already refocused on the task before her. She took aim and kicked the ball in front of her, watching it arc through the air and… hit one of the dummy players. She groaned in annoyance. 

“You’re rushing it, you need to actually aim where you are kicking,” came Jaime’s cutting evaluation. Brienne gave him a look that would have struck terror into most people, but Jaime just let it wash over him without a flicker of recognition. 

“Line yourself up, think about where you are hitting the ball, and then focus on where you want it to go,” he intoned. 

Brienne took a deep breath and tried to follow his instructions. Line up, think and focus. She kicked the ball and it hit the goalpost, causing Brienne to shout out in anger. 

“For gods’ sake, Freckles! What did I tell you?” Jaime cried, running a hand over his frazzled face. “You have to _focus_!” 

“I AM focused!” she shouted. “And my name is _Brienne_! Can’t you get that into your thick skull?” 

“Apparently not,” he retorted, “just like you can’t seem to get into _your_ thick skull what I am trying to tell you!” 

Brienne’s anger, frustration and tiredness was beginning to bubble over now. “I AM listening, I just can’t do it!” she said through gritted teeth. 

“You can!” he yelled in exasperation. “But hey, maybe I’m wrong and behind that red face of yours there is only one lone brain cell that can’t comprehend what I’m saying.” 

Brienne now saw red – she’d had enough of his teasing and mockery and she just couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been out here for hours shooting at that damn goal and she’d just had enough. “Shut _up_ Kingslayer!” she bellowed. 

Instantly, she regretted it. Jaime’s head whipped round, his green eyes narrowed to slits, his face white. “ _What_ did you just say?” he said, his voice low and menacing. 

Brienne stuttered, feeling the heat and anger rolling off him. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know why…” 

“Yes you do,” he replied, his voice cutting through her like a knife, his words icy blades. “You’re just like everyone else,” he snarled. He turned abruptly and began stalking back to the club house. “Training’s OVER!” he yelled over his shoulder. 

“Coach! _Jaime!_ Wait, please! I’m so sorry!” Brienne wailed, tears beginning to stream down her face. But he ignored her and his figure was soon swallowed up by the enveloping darkness. 

Brienne stood alone on the pitch, the football forgotten. “What have I done?” she whispered. No one answered her, and eventually she managed to muster the energy to trudge back to the changing room, alone with her regret. 

****************************************************************************************** 

The following week of training was absolute torture for Brienne. Gone were the barbed comments, the smirks and the teasing, and in its place was a cold indifference, punctuated by moments of complete dismissal. Jaime still coached her, but there was none of the encouragement that Brienne had come to expect, and he almost seemed bored by the process. Brienne felt this change keenly, and her suffering sucked out all of the joy she had found in training. 

At the end of a particularly uncomfortable session, Brienne came off the pitch with tears threatening to slide down her face. She had tried earnestly to apologise to him, to take back what she had said in a moment of exhaustion and anger, but he refused to listen and gave her no opportunity to make amends. The situation seemed hopeless and Brienne felt incapable of hiding her distress any longer. She sank down on a bench in the changing room and hid her face in her hands, willing herself to regain control over her wayward emotions. 

The girls around her were unusually hushed. Suddenly she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and she looked up into Dany’s worried violet eyes. “Brienne, are you alright?” she asked softly. Brienne’s only reply was a sob she couldn’t stop. Dany instantly wrapped her arms around Brienne’s broad shoulders. “Oh don’t cry!” she crooned. “It’s alright!” 

“It’s _not_ alright!” Brienne sobbed, abandoning all pretence at self-control and sobbing on Dany’s comforting shoulder. 

“Is it Coach? Did he do something? He’s been acting weirdly around you all week,” questioned Dany. 

Arya suddenly barged into view. “If he did something out of line, I’ll castrate him!” she snarled. “What did he do, Brienne? You can tell us.” 

“He didn’t do anything,” Brienne gasped between sobs. “It was me!” 

Arya frowned, puzzled. “You? What could you possibly have done to ruffle his feathers?” 

“I lost my temper and I… I called him Kingslayer!” 

A thoughtful silence fell over the group. “Ah,” said Dany eventually. “Yes, he is a _little_ sensitive about that. But you shouldn’t worry, Brienne. He’s heard it enough times before. He’ll get over it. You can’t let him get to you.” 

Arya snorted. “Is that all? He tosses insults at you all day but the moment you dish up some of your own he acts like a wounded child? He should be apologising to you!” 

Brienne shook her head. “I think I really hurt him,” she whispered. 

Asha suddenly piped up. “Oh Brienne! He probably gets hurt if he drops down a place on the 100 sexiest men list! Let him sulk – he will forget about it soon.” 

Arya and Dany nodded in agreement, but Brienne didn’t feel convinced. They hadn’t seen the look in his eyes as she spoke the words. 

Arya was tapping her foot, lost in thought. Suddenly, her face brightened. “Hey! I know what will cheer you up! Shopping!” 

Dany, who was still sitting next to Brienne, gasped and pretended to faint. “By the gods! Did Arya just say she wants to go _shopping_?” 

Arya scowled. “Not _shopping_ shopping, stupid! You still need to get a pair of boots, don’t you Brienne? We could all go into the city and find you the perfect pair.” She grinned widely, pleased at her suggestion. 

Brienne was unsure; she didn’t really feel like going into the city, even for something as desirable as new football boots. But Dany, Asha, Ygritte, Meera and Arya were all looking at her expectantly, and she had to admit, the boots Arya had given her were already starting to show their age. “OK,” she finally agreed. Arya whooped with joy and all the girls started gathering up their things, glad they could do something to cheer up their friend. 

Brienne had to admit, she enjoyed the shopping trip more than she expected. She’d never really had a group of girlfriends to gossip with – there had just been Renly, and while he certainly was all Brienne could ever want from a friend, she had still felt a little envious of the tight bonds formed between other girls. Now, however, she was in the midst of a swirling storm of them, and she loved every minute of it. 

Arya insisted on visiting several shops before a decision was made, which only made the process far more difficult. Brienne had lost track of how many boots she had tried on now, and it still seemed as though none of the girls could agree on what was best. 

“Ooh, you should try _these_ Brienne!” exclaimed Dany, holding up a lurid red pair. “They’re the ones Khal Drogo wears.” 

Arya scoffed. “Why would Brienne care about who wears the same boots as her?” she questioned, but Dany just continued to stare dreamily at them. Brienne leaned over to check the price tag but quickly withdrew when she eyed the number, dismissing them instantly from her list of possibilities. 

Arya then held up another pair. “These are like mine. They’re comfy but they also have good grip.” Brienne tried them on, but the comfort factor was definitely lacking for her. 

Truth be told, she already had her heart set on a pair. They were plain back with blue laces and they had fit like a dream. But the other girls had wanted her to try on a few more pairs before she committed. Finally, however, she mustered up the courage to say which ones she wanted. 

Arya frowned, but Ygritte backed her up. “Good choice,” she said firmly, giving an Arya a warning look. Grinning from ear to ear, Brienne picked up the box of boots and took them to the till. The thrill of the new shoes was easing some of the hurt she had felt all week, for which she was very thankful to her friends. 

Once her boots were bought, she thought the trip would terminate, but the girls had other ideas. 

“Shopping is thirsty work!” cried Asha. “Pub time!” The others all chorused their agreement, and Brienne found herself being pushed along by the general consensus. 

Just half a gin and tonic later and Brienne was already feeling woozy. She rarely drank, so even the slightest sip of alcohol made her brain start to fog. Arya, meanwhile, was on her second beer and still had a mind as sharp as a knife. Suddenly she leaned in and whispered in a fake conspiratorial voice: “So, tell us about your fella Brienne!” 

Brienne blushed furiously as all the girls’ attention riveted to her. “You didn’t say you had a boyfriend!” exclaimed Meera. 

Brienne had no clue what to say; although it wasn’t the first time that Renly had been mistaken as her boyfriend. “I don’t, we’re just really good friends,” she tried to explain. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “You were practically sitting on his lap when I saw you!” 

“I was _not_!” retorted Brienne, her blush deepening to epic proportions. 

“What’s he like?” asked Dany. 

“He’s hot,” said Arya before Brienne could open her mouth. 

Now all the girls were intent on getting the details, and pressed her to describe him to them. Brienne tried to protest that they were not going out together, but no one heeded her, continuing to hound her for information instead. Finally, Brienne gave in. 

“Enough already! He has black hair and blue eyes,” she said reluctantly. 

“He sounds dreamy,” replied Asha. “When did you meet?” 

“In college,” she answered, thinking of that day in the canteen and the way her heart had thudded when she realised Renly was coming over to talk to _her_. 

“Ah, so sweet!” said Dany with a little sigh. “What’s his name?” 

“Renly,” Brienne replied. All the girls now sighed at this, saying what a _romantic_ name it was. Brienne felt the giggles starting to come on. Renly would probably laugh his head off when she told him about this later. They all continued to probe her for details, but Brienne was no longer very forthcoming. She glanced at her phone to check the time and started suddenly. 

“Gods! I have to get back!” she shrieked, grabbing her rucksack and the bag containing her boots. 

“Aw come on Brienne! Stay a bit longer!” wheedled Ygritte. But Brienne just shook her head and dashed out, chucking a careless wave in the direction of her friends. 

She got home just as her father was serving dinner. “Oh Brienne!” he said, coming out of the kitchen. “You’re late! I was starting to get worried.” 

She ran over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so sorry – someone didn’t show up for their shift so I had to cover for them.” The lie slipped out surprisingly easily, but no less uncomfortably. 

Her father nodded, not sensing the untruth. “You must be exhausted! Luckily for you I made my speciality – sausages and mash!” 

“Ooh a gourmet feast!” Brienne joked. “I’ll just go and dump my stuff in my room.” 

She flew upstairs and stuffed the bag containing her precious new boots in the bottom of her wardrobe. It wasn’t the best hiding place, but it would have to do. She smiled thinking of the day she’d had. But then she remembered the cloud that was Jaime - if only she hadn’t said anything! But it was too late now, and she would just have to see if the girls were right. Perhaps he would get over it soon…


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne hurts her ankle and a mysterious woman shows up at training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features another of my all-time favourite scenes from the film - I hope you like it! I am desperately excited to show you the next couple of chapters, which I wrote up in a mad rush late last night, but they're not quite ready yet. In the meantime, I hope this whets your appetite for more!

At the start of the next week’s training, things still didn’t look promising. Jaime’s attitude hadn’t thawed in the slightest, although Brienne did notice him cast an approving look at her new footwear.

Brienne decided to just focus on her training; her first ever tournament match was quickly approaching and she wanted to be in the best shape possible. She didn’t want her inexperience to let the team down. 

During a sprint exercise, however, she felt a sharp twinge in her ankle. She’d turned suddenly to run back to the start, and the motion had obviously twisted her ankle joint. _Great_ , she thought, _I’ll have to ice that when I get home_. The pain was bearable for now though, so she gritted her teeth and kept going. 

It was a relief when Jaime finally called time on the more aerobic portion of the session and instructed the team to begin doing stomach crunches. Brienne sighed as she lay down and took the weight off her sore ankle. It was _definitely_ going to need a bit of TLC later on. 

Arya was doing crunches next to her and suddenly piped up: “Hey, do you want to come over to mine after training is done? My mum keeps going on about meeting you.” 

Brienne went pink with surprise. “Me? Why would she want to meet me?” she asked. 

Arya shrugged, grunting with the effort of talking and crunching. “She likes to check up on who I hang out with now and then, to make sure I’m not getting ‘in the wrong crowd’. So, d’you want to come?” 

Brienne grinned at Arya’s disparaging view of maternal concern. “Sure, I’d love to…” she began, but was cut off by the appearance of Jaime at her shoulder. He crouched down so his eyes were level with hers. They were dark today, the colour of the sea when a storm is brewing. Brienne felt a little unnerved. 

“Is everything alright here?” he asked Brienne in mock concern. 

“Yes Coach,” she replied uncertainly, unsure as to where this was heading. 

“Are you sure?” he questioned, tilting his head to one side. “I thought it looked as though training was getting in the way of your conversation.” 

Brienne could feel her cheeks growing warm. She scowled at him. “No Coach,” she replied. 

A wicked grin now appeared on his face. “Then you won’t mind if I interrupt to send you off on a nice cool-down jog around the pitch.” He stood, using his height to tower over Brienne on the floor. “Off you go – I want two laps.” 

“That’s out of order!” shouted Arya, but Jaime just cast her a disapproving look. “Quiet or you will be joining her. I want no talking during training!” 

Brienne reluctantly got up. Her ankle was now really protesting, and she toyed with telling Jaime that she was injured. But she felt his green eyes upon her, so she simply took a deep breath and began a slow jog around the pitch, cursing her coach all the while. 

Just half a lap later and she could feel shooting pain from her ankle joint. It worried her but she kept pushing forwards. She couldn’t, she _mustn’t_ look weak in front of everybody. 

One and a half laps later and her pace had slowed to a painful trot. The pain was now searing, but Brienne gritted her teeth and kept going. Stopping now would feel like failure, she believed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the team was packing up and heading back to the changing room. Jaime turned and she heard him shout. 

“You can stop now!” he yelled in her direction. But she refused to – she only had half a lap more and then she would have fulfilled his stupid order. Jaime yelled at her again, but she ignored him, wincing as the pain in her ankle continued to increase. 

She was so focused on this that she didn’t spot Jaime doing an awkward run over to her until he was walking by her shoulder. 

“Have you gone deaf, wench?” he questioned. “I told you to stop!” 

“I’ve only got half a lap more to go,” she replied through gritted teeth. 

Jaime looked down at her legs and the obvious limp she was displaying. Suddenly he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to stand still. “STOP,” he shouted in her ear. His hands were warm and strong on her shoulders, preventing her from moving away. He was looking down at her legs, a frown on his face. “Where are you injured?” he asked, a trace of what Brienne thought might have been concern in his voice. 

“My ankle,” she managed to gasp, the pain almost taking her voice away. 

“Sit. Now,” he instructed, gently pushing on her shoulders so she flopped onto the floor. She hissed as she did so and began rubbing the sore joint. Jaime dropped down next to her, doing so with far more grace than her, Brienne noted ruefully. 

To her surprise he then took her foot in his lap and began unlacing her boot with swift, long fingers. 

“What are you doing?” Brienne asked in acute embarrassment. His touch was sending searing heat through her body that dulled even the pain in her ankle. 

“I’m checking to see what damage your pig-headedness has done,” he replied drily. 

Brienne glared at him. “You were the one to send me on a pleasant cool-down jog,” she remarked. 

Jaime glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “Why didn’t you say you were injured?” he asked more quietly, the irritation slipping from his voice. He finished unlacing the boot and then, to Brienne’s horror, he began tugging off her long sock. 

Her face was crimson by the time she replied. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak,” she muttered. 

Jaime’s head shot up. His eyes were sparkling green pools with slight flecks of gold in the centre. “That’s ridiculous wench, and you know it.” He turned back to her bare foot and began to gently feel along the joint, flexing her ankle as he did so. Brienne bit her lip to keep herself from crying out. “Playing while injured is what got me into the mess I’m in now,” he muttered. 

Brienne looked at him in confusion, trying to distract herself from the sensation of his strong fingers probing her sore ankle. “What do you mean? I thought it was the tackle that wrecked your knee.” 

Jaime grunted derisively. “The tackle finished me off, but the truth was that I was playing injured. If the ligaments in my knee hadn’t already been shot to pieces, perhaps I wouldn’t be here today.” 

Brienne was shocked. “Why did you play if you were injured?” 

He didn’t answer straightaway but gazed thoughtfully across the pitch, absentmindedly stroking the soft skin on Brienne’s ankle with a finger, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. 

“I made the mistake of seeing my father a few days before the match,” he finally muttered. “He accused me of being weak and of letting my team down if I cried off sick. It was the final after all.” 

He dropped his gaze, focusing on Brienne’s foot, which was still propped comfortably on his leg. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me, but I did. When the physios tried to stop me from playing I threw my weight around and treated everyone like shit until they let me play. I know I’m to blame, but I hate my father for it all the same.” 

“But surely he felt bad for influencing you to play?” Brienne questioned. 

Jaime gave a short, sharp laugh. “On the contrary – he was delighted. He has a share in Lannisport F.C. and has never forgiven me for signing to another team. When my playing career ended he was happy as can be. He thought he would finally get his way and have me coach his precious team, but I refused. I spotted this job for coaching the King’s Maidens and applied for that instead, just to spite him. He hasn’t spoken to me since.” 

“That’s awful,” murmured Brienne. 

“Not really,” he replied. “I don’t miss him. He’s a bastard anyway.” 

“You shouldn’t say that about your dad,” said Brienne, thinking of her own father and his kind eyes and love for her. 

Jaime looked up and met her sorrowful blue eyes with his own, which were hardened by the anger the memory had arisen. “You don’t know my father,” he stated flatly. 

A silence fell before Jaime finally seemed to come back to himself. “Your ankle should be fine – it’s just sprained. Put some ice on it and keep it up for the rest of the day and hopefully it will be OK for the match,” he instructed. 

“Jaime,” Brienne reached out and touched his arm, prompting him to bring his bright eyes back to her face. “I really am sorry about what I said. I was angry and I didn’t mean it.” 

Jaime looked back at her, seeming to search her face for dishonesty. Finding none, he looked away, ashamed at himself. “No, I should be apologising to you. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I certainly shouldn’t have punished you for it.” He paused, looking as though he wanted to add something, but then changed his mind. “Forgive me?” he asked, his customary smirk back in place. 

“I’ll think about it,” she replied, trying not to smile back. 

Grinning, he gently removed Brienne’s foot from its resting place and stood up, picking up her shoe and sock. “Let’s get you and your stubborn head back, shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand. Brienne looked at it doubtfully, causing Jaime to tap his foot. “Come on wench, I haven’t got all day. Some of us have important things to do.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise tonight was the night you wash your hair. I would _hate_ to keep you,” Brienne retorted. 

Jaime grinned wickedly. “Exactly so, Freckles. It takes time to look this beautiful you know.” 

Brienne snorted. “I wouldn’t know,” she answered quietly. Jaime gave her a funny look, a slight frown on his face. Brienne avoided his gaze. She didn’t want to see his expression; she was tired of pity. 

Grunting, she tried to push herself up without putting too much weight on her ankle, but ended up falling back to the floor with a thump. Muttering, she tried again, only to land on her backside. 

Jaime regarded her with amusement. “Good, now you’ve got that out of your system will you accept my generous offer of assistance and take my damn hand?” 

She glared at him. “I can do it!” 

Jaime cocked his head. “While I admire your valiant efforts, I think on this occasion you will have to stoop to using me as support.” 

“I’ll pull you over!” she blurted out, thinking of her size. 

Jaime rolled his eyes. “You may be a giantess,” he said with a twinkle, “but I’m not made of glass. Come on, let me help you up.” 

Scowling, Brienne reluctantly took his hand and in one fluid movement she found herself standing upright, eye-to-eye with Jaime. He grinned at his success. “There, and I was told chivalry was dead!” he chuckled. To Brienne’s shock, he then casually draped her arm around his shoulders. “Lean on me to keep the weight off your ankle,” he ordered. 

“But won’t that hurt your knee?” she asked in concern. 

He looked at her, surprised by her worries. “I may look like an old cripple, but I’m pretty sure I will be able to stagger over to the other end of the pitch,” he reassured her. 

Brienne grunted, still unsure but unable to come up with any other excuses as to why she couldn’t accept his help. She therefore reluctantly did as she was told, trying her hardest not to admire the feel of his well-built shoulders under her hand. She’d never been this close to him before, and she felt clumsy and ridiculous as a result. Things were made worse when Jaime snaked a hand around her non-existent waist to give her more support. 

They made slow progress across the pitch, both limping due to their respective injuries. Brienne suddenly realised how ridiculous the pair of them must look, causing her to laugh out loud. Jaime glanced at her, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly. 

“The girls must be wondering who is supporting who!” Brienne explained. “Neither of us can walk properly!” She continued to laugh, and to her surprise and joy, Jaime joined in. She’d never heard him actually laugh before, and she decided she liked the sound – it was deep and free, and brought the crinkle to his eyes that she had come to admire. 

They were approaching the changing room and shaking off the end of their mirth when Brienne noticed an unfamiliar figure standing by the entrance gate. 

Squinting her eyes, Brienne could see that it was a woman dressed in a flattering red sundress that perfectly offset the colour of her long, golden hair. She was beautiful, but she was also frowning, which spoilt the attractiveness of her face somewhat. She looked utterly out of place standing there by the pitch and Brienne wondered what an earth such a person was doing at the King’s Landing City training grounds. 

“Who’s that?” Brienne asked, pointing with her free arm. Jaime looked up and Brienne felt tension thrum through his body. 

“No one,” he said harshly, the hand around her waist tightening almost imperceptibly. 

Brienne wondered why he suddenly seemed so tense and her curiosity was naturally piqued, especially when she saw her teammates still clustered around the changing room door staring at the woman and whispering among themselves. Brienne opened her mouth to ask Jaime if he was alright, but as they got closer to the edge of the pitch Arya peeled away from the others and jogged over, her face full of concern. 

“Brienne, are you OK?” 

She didn’t have chance to reply, for Jaime swiftly unwrapped her arm from around his shoulders and motioned for Arya to take his place. 

“Little Miss Stubborn here has hurt her ankle – help her back to the changing room,” he ordered. Arya shot him a murderous look, obviously blaming him for Brienne’s pain. Brienne started to protest, worried about the abrupt change in Jaime’s mood, but Arya was already next to her, shouldering her weight. Reluctantly, Brienne allowed Arya to lead her away, confused by the turn in events. She glanced back and saw Jaime slowly approaching the beautiful woman, tension clearly emanating from his body, giving him the appearance of a stalking feline. The woman looked no more relaxed, alternating her blazing glare from Jaime to Brienne. 

“Come on gawpers, let’s get changed!” said Arya as they reached the changing room door, forcing Brienne to drag her eyes away. 

“Who is that woman?” Brienne questioned as soon as they were all inside and she had been comfortably seated on a bench. 

“Oh Brienne! You know nothing!” cried Ygritte. “That’s _Cersei Baratheon_ , you know, the actress!” 

“Oh!” Brienne replied, desperately wracking her brain for a film she may have seen her in. She drew a blank. “But what is she doing here?” 

Ygritte rolled her eyes. “She was a Lannister before she got married to that billionaire Baratheon bloke. She’s Coach’s _cousin_!” 

Brienne blushed with her ignorance – she should have seen the similarities between them. But a thought kept intruding: “But if they’re family, why did neither of them look pleased to see each other?” 

“Not everyone has a happy family, Brienne,” said Dany softly, and Brienne quickly recalled the way Jaime had spoken about his father. Evidently there were few family members he actually had a good relationship with. 

“They don’t get on, from what I’ve heard,” said Asha. “Apparently he didn’t even go to her wedding last year. They probably hate each other’s guts.” 

“But then why was she _here_?” persisted Brienne. 

“Oh who cares!” exclaimed Arya. “More importantly, are _you_ OK? I’ve got loads of icepacks at home if you still want to come.” 

Brienne’s mind was still focused on the mysterious visit of the beautiful woman, but she smiled up to Arya’s questioning face. “Ice packs sound amazing,” she answered. 

***************************************************************************** 

Somehow, with a great deal of help from Arya, Brienne got changed and on the bus to arrive more or less in one piece at Arya’s house. It was situated in an exclusive part of the city, boasting its own private community gardens and security. Brienne was overawed, thinking of her and her father’s modest semi located in a less fashionable neighbourhood. 

If Arya noticed her discomfort, she didn’t add to it by commenting on it. Instead, she simply gave Brienne her arm again and they made their steady way through the large wooden door. 

A tall, elegant lady in her mid-fifties instantly materialised in the hallway. Brienne guessed that she was Arya’s mother, although the two did not resemble each other particularly. Arya was short, dark haired and had stormy grey eyes, which stood in striking contrast to her mother’s auburn locks and bright blue eyes. She approached them smiling, but a worried look crossed her face when she saw Brienne’s dependence on Arya. 

“Oh dear! Are you alright?” she asked anxiously. 

Brienne blushed; she had forgotten what motherly concern was like seeing as she had lost hers so long ago. “I’m OK, I’ve just hurt my ankle,” she explained. 

Arya’s mother clucked like a disapproving hen and manoeuvred her and Arya into what turned out to be a luxurious sitting room. “Sit down and prop your leg up,” she instructed. “I hope this isn’t Arya’s fault!” she added, casting a disapproving look in her daughter’s direction. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “It’s not MY fault! I haven’t injured anyone with a tackle for at least a few days,” she replied with a mischievous grin. The lady smiled back and Brienne felt a twinge of jealousy. 

“Well,” said Arya’s mother, plumping up some cushions to put under Brienne’s foot. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” 

Arya rolled her eyes again. “Mum, this is Brienne. Brienne, this is the lady who calls herself my mother,” she announced, quickly dodging her mother’s playful swat. 

“It’s so nice to meet you at last!” sang Arya’s mother, turning her attention back to Brienne. “Arya has spoken of you so often that we all grew curious.” She smiled in a friendly way, without any of the strange looks or comments on her height that Brienne was used to. 

"It's nice to meet you Mrs..." “Catelyn,” she replied. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.” She smiled again and then bustled out, muttering something about finding ice. 

Arya sighed and flopped down on the sofa next to Brienne, making sure she didn’t unsettle her foot from the tower of cushions now placed under it. 

“Your mum seems nice,” smiled Brienne. 

Arya snorted. “Yeah I guess she is. You don’t have to live with her though! She still hates me playing football as well.” 

Catelyn caught this as she returned to the room, icepack in hand. “Well, can you blame me? It is a _little_ unladylike.” She turned to Brienne as if to ask her for support, but then chuckled. “Well, I can’t ask you to back me up, can I?” Brienne shook her head, grinning as Catelyn arranged the icepack around her foot. 

Once she was sure Brienne was comfortable, Catelyn rose and looked at her work with satisfaction. “Now, I shall go and make us all some tea,” she stated, hurrying from the room. 

“Sorry,” said Arya once her mother had left. “She likes to fuss. She’s gotten worse since Robb left home and Sansa started university. There’s only three of us to baby now.” 

“You have _four_ siblings?” Brienne asked in amazement. 

Arya shrugged. “Yeah – damn nightmare to live with them all if you ask me.” 

Her words were harsh but Brienne could detect a fierce love for them all lurking underneath. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Arya asked curiously. 

It was a natural question, but it was still one that Brienne found difficult to answer. An image of her brother’s laughing face and his flaxen hair blowing in a stiff sea breeze came unbidden to her mind. She swallowed hard and shook her head. 

“Lucky!” said Arya. “That must be so peaceful!” 

“Yes… yes it is,” mumbled Brienne. 

Fortunately Arya missed the hesitance in her voice because at that moment Catelyn glided back into the room with a tray laden with hot tea and biscuits. Arya rolled her eyes at her mother’s excessive hospitality, but still seized a mug and a handful of biscuits with enthusiasm. 

Catelyn beamed as she handed out the tea and treats, obviously enjoying playing the role of hostess. Brienne wondered vaguely what it would be like to have her as a mother, longing sweeping through her as Catelyn re-fluffed the already plump cushions cocooning her foot. 

“I’ll leave you girls to gossip now; let me know if you need anything else,” she said, sweeping from the room again. 

“Thank goodness for that!” huffed Arya, playing the part of a disgruntled teenager to perfection. Brienne smiled – it was nice to be a part of such a familiar domestic scene, and she felt more than at home here. 

Arya resettled herself on the sofa and began munching hungrily on her biscuits. “I’m sorry Coach has been such a twat to you. He shouldn’t have made you run those laps today. He really needs to get over himself.” 

“Actually… he apologised today,” replied Brienne, staring into her mug as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She could feel Arya’s astounded eyes on her, but she refused to make eye contact. 

“Well, about time,” said Arya eventually, thoughtfully munching on a crumbly biscuit. “I think that must be a first for him.” 

Brienne wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa, trying not to think about the things Jaime had shared with her today. She didn’t know why he’d told her – it all felt too personal and intimate somehow; it had certainly transcended the coach/player relationship and she wasn’t sure yet how she felt about that. 

Arya’s voice cut through her thoughts and brought her back to the present. “If he wasn’t such a good coach, I’d be glad to see the back of him to be honest.” 

Brienne was shocked. “Really? He’s not _that_ bad!” she cried. 

Arya looked at her strangely. “Funny, coming from the girl who has been the butt of his bad jokes for weeks now,” she replied, hitching up an eyebrow. 

Brienne squirmed under her gaze. Truth be told, even she didn’t know why she was defending him. He was rude and arrogant, and yet she _had_ seen some slithers of humanity under his cool veneer. “Maybe it’s just because we don’t really know him very well,” she said lamely. 

“Humph,” Arya responded. “Although at least he has remained professional. I had my doubts when he first started.” 

“What do you mean?” Brienne questioned. 

Arya rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. “When he showed up as our new coach, some of the girls thought Christmas had come early. It was pretty sad really; they were chasing him around like hormone-fuelled airheads. I think more than one made a direct pass at him, but to his credit he turned them all down.” 

For some reason, hearing this pleased Brienne, although she couldn’t say why exactly. “See! He’s not all bad!” she exclaimed. 

Arya snorted derisively. “I suppose it’s just as well. He’d be fired if he was caught with one of his players, and then we’d probably get lumbered with a useless coach in his place.” 

Brienne blushed and focused on sipping her tea. 

“Hey!” exclaimed Arya suddenly, her scowl changing into childish delight. “Do you want to see something cool?” 

Brienne nodded, pleased that the topic of conversation seemed to have changed. Arya leapt off the sofa like a coiled spring and rummaged on a coffee table for something. She eventually made a victorious noise and held a remote control aloft. Plopping back down onto the sofa she switched on the wide flatscreen TV that was suspended on the opposite wall. She surfed through a few channels before finding the one she wanted. On the screen appeared a football match, but one with a difference. 

“It’s a women’s team!” Brienne exclaimed. But this was no amateur match: this game was played in a huge stadium that was crammed full of spectators cheering loudly for the players. Brienne had never seen anything like it. 

“Where _is_ this?” she questioned Arya in a voice of awe. 

“Dorne. They have a premier women’s league out there with professional teams,” Arya answered, sighing. “They really appreciate women’s football out there – it’s as popular, if not more so, than the men’s version.” 

Brienne looked at her incredulously, before turning back to the screen. It all looked so amazing. Why had she never heard of this? 

Arya was also gazing at the screen, although her eyes were far away. “I’m going to play there one day,” she murmured. 

“Can you do that?” Brienne asked in surprise. 

“’Course I can,” said Arya confidently. “I’m good enough – Coach has said so.” A mischievous look came into her eyes. “That’s another reason why I put up with him; he knows a Dornish scout. He’s going to ask him to come and see me play.” 

“That would be amazing,” said Brienne enthusiastically. Arya grinned and settled down to watch the match. Brienne also turned her eyes to the screen, but she didn’t really see what was happening. _If only I could do that, too_ , she thought wistfully, her mind wandering off into a beautiful daydream where she was scoring the winning goal in a premier league match and her father was cheering from the stands, and Jaime... Jaime was there too, smiling at her success, his emerald eyes lit up with pride. Brienne smiled to herself and lost herself in the fantasy, allowing her mind to escape reality and move into a world where she was everything she wanted to be.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude away from Brienne which sees Jaime confront Cersei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! 
> 
> This chapter sees us move away from Brienne briefly so we can get a little insight into Jaime's previous love life. I wrestled with how to get this information across while staying with Brienne as a character, but I decided so much more could be given by devoting a chapter to the exchange between Jaime and Cersei at the training grounds. 
> 
> As ever, I hope you enjoy!

“What do you want, Cersei?” he growled, stopping a few feet in front of her. “I never thought you’d show your face around here.”

Cersei smiled in a winning way, but Jaime was unmoved. He could see its falseness from the tightness in her face and the way her eyes flashed in anger. 

“Why, Jaime! Aren’t you pleased to see me?” she crooned. 

He folded his arms. “No,” he said flatly. 

Cersei dropped all pretence of being sweetness and light. “Who was that?” she questioned, jabbing a talon-like finger in the direction Brienne had gone. 

Jaime kept his face expressionless. “As you well know, I am the coach of a girls’ football team. I therefore come into contact with _girls_ on a fairly regular basis. It’s a hazard of the job, unfortunately.” 

Cersei’s eyes flashed. “So you wrap yourself around every girl you coach? I’m not surprised really – some women are weak when it comes to charity cases. I bet your _disability_ has them weeping in your arms.” 

Rage flared up in Jaime, but he schooled his face to calmness. Showing his anger would only please her. “Jealous, are we? I should have guessed that you would be bored of Robert by now.” 

Cersei narrowed her eyes. “Robert is just _wonderful_ , thank you. I would guess that you are the jealous one, not me.” 

“No,” he countered. “Not anymore.” He held her gaze. “What do you want?” 

Cersei smiled again, baring perfect white teeth. “Is it that hard to imagine I just wanted to come to say hello?” 

“Yes, actually,” Jaime answered. He stepped closer. “You don’t really need to tell me why you’re here – I can guess. I know you so well after all.” She glared at him as he fixed a knowing smile on his face. “You were no doubt bored, and thought it would be fun to visit me and remind me of what I’m missing.” He moved forward again, so his eyes looked directly into hers. “And you are,” he added, softening his voice. “You’re reminding me what a jealous, possessive bitch you are and how glad I am to not be at your beck and call anymore.” 

Cersei looked as though she had been physically slapped. For a moment she said nothing, before breaking into a brittle, hollow laugh. “Oh, Jaime! Always so passionate! What fun you are!” 

Jaime growled deep in his throat. “I want you to leave,” he snarled. 

Cersei pulled a face. “Why? So you can go snivelling over to that giant, simpering cow of a girl? You really must be desperate.” 

Jaime snarled at the insult, his hands tightening into fists at his side. He thought of Brienne’s big blue eyes and the way he had seen them brim with concern as she sensed his distress. Cersei had it so wrong – Brienne was much more than a tall, awkward girl who blushed almost constantly, although he rather liked that aspect of her. She was a curious mix of strength and gentleness, and unlike all the other women who had thrown themselves at him over the years, he could tell she genuinely _cared_ , and having someone care about him was intoxicating. 

He’d almost forgotten Cersei was there until he caught her wide grin, gloating at her success in riling him up. As his scowl deepened she re-schooled her face into softness and lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. “I still love you, Jaime. I always have.” 

Jaime laughed, harsh and loud. “Yes, you loved me so much you insisted we keep our relationship a secret - for _years_ \- so that you could play the tabloids and keep people talking about you. What happened to you never marrying? I asked you hundreds of times, and yet Robert goes down on one knee just once and you accept straightaway?” 

Cersei rolled her eyes, abandoning her attempts at seduction for now. “I’ve explained this before! Being in a long-term relationship while my career was starting out would have made me _boring_. Who wants to write about a star whose personal life is completely devoid of drama? No-one. But things are different now; I’m established, so I can settle down and fill my interviews with details of the blissful life I lead as a happy wife.” 

“Why Robert?” Jaime persisted. “You could still have chosen me.” 

Cersei tossed her head and viewed him critically. “You really expect me to sell myself so short? Why would I want to be with a man who can’t walk properly and who teaches simpering little girls to kick a ball around?” 

A heavy silence dropped. But weirdly, Jaime didn’t feel the pain he expected. Instead, he found himself smiling. “Thank you, Cersei.” 

Confusion filled her face. “For what?” she spat. 

Jaime’s smile didn’t drop. “You want to hurt me but I don’t care. At all. You can go back to Robert and your ‘blissful’ life as a wife to a fool. I hope you’re very happy together.” 

He turned to go, but Cersei snatched at his arm. “You know I don’t love him, don’t you? It’s only ever been you, Jaime. Please, I do still love you.” 

Jaime shook her off violently and raised his eyes to meet hers. “Then you’re alone in that. I don’t love you, not anymore.” He started to walk away, feeling strangely light and giddy. 

“You really think that cow can replace _me_?” she screeched. 

Jaime turned to face her one last time. “She already has.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne plays her first tournament match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a huge thank you for all the kudos and comments made so far - my boyfriend caught sight of the title of this fic the other day and thought it looked like "total crap"! Haha! He would be so mortified if he knew I was the one writing it! So, I just wanted to say I'm very grateful for all the lovely comments. This may not be War & Peace and it may not be particularly well-written, but I hope it is entertaining. This has been a lovely bit of escapism from the day job and I am having so much fun writing it. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy this update. :-)

“Are you sure you will be alright?” Brienne’s father questioned, his worried eyes scanning her face. “You don’t look at all well.”

Brienne sniffed, clutching a tissue to her red nose. “I’ll be OK dad. I will dose myself up with cold medicine and veg out in front of the tele. You go and enjoy yourself.” 

Brienne’s father was wrapped up in waterproofs, ready to spend a relaxing day by the river fishing, but he still looked uncertain. “What if you need something?” he asked. 

Brienne’s heart warmed at his concern but she shook her head. “I’ve got medicine, a pile of rom-coms and a packet of biscuits. What else could I need?” 

Her father hesitated but then smiled, kissing her forehead. “Alright then, so long as you’re sure. Call me if you need me.” 

Brienne nodded and watched as her father picked up his fishing gear and headed out of the door. Eventually she heard the engine start up and the car pull out of the drive. 

She leapt up, throwing off the blankets her father had lovingly arranged around her, and ran upstairs. Her heart thudded with guilt. It was Sod’s Law that the timing of the first match of the summer tournament coincided with a day when the shop she worked at was usually closed, thereby invalidating the excuse she normally used to escape the house. As a result, she’d had to come up with a new excuse, and it seemed she’d pulled it off. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, Brienne frantically rubbed at her nose, removing the blusher she had applied to it to give it a red colour. Her skill at duplicity had really come on in leaps and bounds, she thought wryly. 

Make-up removed, she fumbled around under the bed for her kit, hastily changing into it. She glanced at her watch. If she ran, she would still make it there in time. 

*************************************** 

Brienne burst into the changing rooms, gasping for breath. Her teammates instantly surrounded her, relieved to see that she’d made it in time. 

Arya sidled up to her elbow. “What did you say to get here?” she asked sotto voice. Brienne had rung her with her predicament earlier in the week, and together they had conspired to come up with an escape plan. 

“I went with the cold story,” Brienne replied. “I think I just about convinced him.” Arya nodded and cleared a space on a bench for Brienne to put on her boots. 

Brienne was just finishing fastening the laces when there was a knock on the changing room door. 

“That’ll be Coach,” said Dany, leaping up to open it. 

Brienne looked up in confusion. “What? Why is he coming in?” 

“He’s got to give us the pre-match talk,” explained Arya. Brienne blushed with her ignorance – she really didn’t know what was going on. 

Jaime sauntered into the room, his usual smirk in place. He gave a cursory look over the team until his eyes met Brienne’s, causing her to look away. She blushed furiously and she could have sworn that his grin got even bigger. 

“Alright Maidens! Today’s sheep for the slaughter are the pitiful players from Oldtown Ladies Club. Hardly worth our bother really, but they seem to like losing to us so it would be cruel to deny them,” he began, the girls crowing in agreement. 

“As always, I want spitting, punching, scalping and biting kept to a minimum – and I’m talking especially to you, Arya,” he added, earning a glare in return. “Stick to our plan and all will be plain sailing – score as many goals as you can, preferably in their goal and not ours, and victory is assured. Any questions?” 

“Which one is their goal again?” quipped Ygritte. 

“Whichever one you’re not standing in,” Jaime replied with a grin. “Now, let’s go out there and give them the hiding they deserve. Metaphorically of course.” 

The girls cheered and started racing out of the changing room, eager to be underway. Brienne’s heart was thundering with excitement; she couldn’t wait to start playing, although she was so nervous she wasn’t sure she could get out of the changing room in one piece, let alone dodge defenders and score goals. 

She was at the door when Jaime’s golden arm shot across, blocking her exit. Brienne groaned inwardly and rolled her eyes. “Why is it that you always seem determined to get in my way?” 

Jaime grinned impishly. “I’m in your way? I hadn’t noticed.” He now moved so that his whole body blocked the doorway, grinning from ear-to-ear as Brienne folded her arms in exasperation. 

“Now you’re even more in my way,” she grumbled. 

His grin didn’t falter. “You look nervous,” he said. 

“I’m not,” she lied. 

“Yes you are,” he replied, his infuriating grin still in place. 

“I’m fine.” 

“I disagree.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” she reiterated, her irritation growing. 

“Aggressive, too,” he commented. 

“Well, if you’d just get out of my way…” 

“But I’m not in your way,” he answered, smirking. 

“YES YOU ARE,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Now you’re getting angry,” he stated, smiling from ear-to-ear. “Perhaps you should see someone about that, Freckles.” 

Brienne sighed in exasperation. “My name is _Brienne_.” 

“It is?” Jaime replied, a look of mock horror on his face. “I’m sure you told me it was Freckles. I wouldn’t make a mistake like that. It’s too late now I suppose…” 

Brienne snapped her head up, meeting his laughing green eyes head-on. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, the coach has to enter in all the players’ names so that the tournament managers know who’s playing… I’m afraid you may have been entered as ‘Freckles’. Of course, if I had known you were _actually_ called Brienne…” 

“You’ve entered me as Freckles Tarth?!” she asked in disbelief. 

“Well, not exactly… I have trouble spelling, you see, dyslexia and all that, so it may be more like ‘Freckles Tart’, but not to worry, I will correct it for the next match.” His grin was now infuriatingly large. 

Brienne sighed. “Can I go now?” 

“Of course!” he said gleefully, moving out of her way. Brienne rolled her eyes once more and raced out to the pitch where her teammates were already eye-balling the competition. 

Arya frowned as she approached. “What kept you?” 

Brienne sighed. “Let’s just say Coach needs some spelling lessons.” She shook her head at Arya’s bewildered expression. “I’ll tell you later,” she promised. 

Getting into position, she cast her eye over the stands and was delighted to see Renly right at the front. He gave her a wave and a thumbs-up and Brienne instantly felt more confident. _I can do this_ , she muttered to herself. 

Late as she was, she didn’t have to wait long until the whistle blew and the match began. 

******************************************************************* 

Jaime was right; Oldtown Ladies were not much competition at all. He had strategised that their defense would be weak, and had therefore coached the girls to seek every opportunity to attack their goal. Brienne had to grudgingly admit that his tactics were sound; the Maidens were soon all over their opponents’ goal, and she and Arya were darting in and out, making every possible attempt to score. 

Racing with the ball, she skirted a player who was being expertly marked by Asha. The other defender was nowhere to be seen, having been tempted away from her position. All Brienne had to do now was get the ball past the goalkeeper, who was looking nervous as Brienne barrelled towards her. 

_Focus_ , she told herself. _Don’t screw this up!_ She took aim and kicked the ball, aiming it for the top left corner of the goal. The goalie leapt, her outstretched fingers reaching desperately for the ball… but she only grazed it and the ball hit the back of the net. 

Brienne crowed with delight, throwing her hands into the air as her teammates converged on her, crushing her in a group hug. “Goal!” she shrieked, happiness thrumming through her, making her heart sing. Over the cheers of her friends she then heard the training ground tannoy crackle into life: “And that’s a goal for the King’s Maidens by number 10, Freckles Tart!” it boomed. 

Brienne flushed scarlet and turned to glare at Jaime, who was applauding on the sidelines. He shrugged and opened his arms in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. Brienne made sure to gift him one of her best scowls. 

“Did they just call you Freckles _Tart_?” asked Meera incredulously. 

Brienne sighed. “I’ll explain later!” 

********************************************************* 

Halftime came and went, Brienne studiously ignoring Jaime’s attempts to catch her eye during his pep talk, and before she knew it the match was over. The King’s Maidens had won 5-0! 

Shaking hands with her opponents, Brienne trouped off the pitch feeling tired but also incredibly happy. As she went through the entrance gate she was met by an excited Renly. 

“Brienne that was amazing! You played like a pro!” he exclaimed, enveloping her in a hug. 

Well aware that her teammates were watching her curiously, Brienne blushed and returned his hug. “Thanks Renly, I can’t believe we won!” 

“I can,” he said confidently, his smile making his blue eyes sparkle. “You were by far the better side.” He hugged her again and Brienne couldn’t help but feel touched by his pride in her. 

Eventually they broke apart and Brienne nodded her head towards the changing room. “Let me get out of my kit and then we can head back together?” she asked. 

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the carpark,” he grinned, turning to go. 

Brienne waved him off and made to move towards the changing room, but glancing up she caught sight of Jaime, who was watching Renly depart with a strange look upon his face. 

Frowning, Brienne made to continue on her way, but Jaime once again stopped her. 

“Who was that?” he asked, glancing over to where Renly had gone. 

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “A friend, not that it’s any of your business.” 

Jaime flicked his eyes back to her face. The little glints of gold in them were being picked up by the summer sunshine, giving them even more intensity. “How come he gets smiles and hugs while I get scowls and frowns?” he asked lightheartedly, although it didn’t sound as though his heart was really in it. 

Brienne folded her arms. “Well, for one thing he does not spell my name wrong so that every goal I score gets accredited to a ‘Freckles Tart’.” 

Jaime grinned wickedly, some of his usual humour returning. “Yes, so sorry about that. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

“It had better not,” she huffed, manoeuvring around him to get to the changing room. 

“You played well today.” 

Brienne turned in surprise to find Jaime looking at her earnestly. 

“In fact, you played brilliantly. You should be proud of yourself,” he added, giving her a genuine smile devoid of its usual mischief. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, holding his gaze for a few moments. Eventually she grew uncomfortable, and having nothing else to say, broke eye contact and rushed into the safety of the changing room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'White shirt moment'. Nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really overwhelmed by the lovely comments I got on yesterday's chapter. THANK YOU.
> 
> I am treating you all with an early post of the next installment as I am afraid to say that there will probably be a hiatus of a week and a bit as I am off on a jaunt abroad. My faithful laptop will be accompanying me, and I have written a little ahead, but I can't promise I will have the time to post anything.
> 
> So - stay tuned! The next chapters WILL be coming, but you will have to wait a while. I hope it will be worth it!

Brienne had known from the beginning that continuing to deceive her father was risky and that as the lies built the potential fallout would reach epic proportions. The only thing she did not know was when it would all come crumbling down around her.

She’d known something was wrong as soon as she opened the front door. She was returning from another game where the Maidens had emerged victorious and the joy of her success had buoyed her up throughout her walk home. But all this positive feeling fled when she stepped tentatively into the living room. 

Her father was sitting in his favourite chair by the window, his worn hands steepled in his lap. He didn’t look up straightaway as she entered the room and his stillness frightened her. 

“Dad?” 

Her voice seemed to echo around the room, shattering the stillness that had reigned before it. Her father finally looked up, a careworn expression on his face. 

“I rang your manager today,” he began. 

Instantly, a hot blush began to creep up from Brienne’s collar bones to her neck and face. She felt a tightness in her chest and she could hear her pulse in her ears. 

“I wanted to offer you a lift home and I knew you wouldn’t be able to look at your phone while you were working. Imagine my surprise when the manager told me you weren’t there.” 

He now raised his eyes to lock with Brienne’s own. She felt distinctly uncomfortable and knew not what to say. 

“So, where were you Brienne?” he asked, his voice so soft Brienne could scarcely hear it. 

“I was at a football match,” she confessed, unable to hold his gaze much longer. 

He nodded. “And is that where you have been doing ‘overtime’ for the last few weeks?” 

Brienne nodded slowly, still not daring to look up. 

“And did you really have the flu?” 

“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

Selwyn leaned forward and rubbed a hand across his tired face. “What a silly fool I am. Deceived twice by my own daughter” 

“Dad…” 

“No, Brienne. I am so disappointed in you. Please go to your room. I just want to sit in the quiet for a while.” 

Brienne’s heart melted. With enormous effort she managed to drag her feet up the stairs and into her room. Falling on the bed, she let a few salty tears fall. She’d never seen her father so quiet before, and it worried her. Panic coursed through her – what if he never forgave her? 

It was then that she began to sob, and she didn’t stop until late in the night. 

*************************************** 

“Arya!” Jaime called impatiently, pacing up and down while he waited for her to jog over to him. 

“Where’s the wench?” he asked when she stood before him, hands on hips. 

Arya hesitated. “I don’t know.” 

Jaime frowned. “This is the second training session she’s been absent from. She never misses a session.” 

Arya now looked uncomfortable. _She knows something_ , he thought to himself. He waited, giving her time to decide whether she wanted to say whatever it was that was on her mind. 

“Her dad didn’t know she was playing for the team. Maybe he found out,” she finally confessed. 

“What? He had no idea?” 

Arya wriggled. “No,” she huffed. “I told her to pretend she was working overtime for a summer job.” 

Jaime shook his head in disbelief. “Shit,” he said. Arya continued to squirm under his gaze until he eventually dismissed her with a nod of his head. She scurried off, relieved to be away from his inquisition. Slowly, Jaime resumed his pacing, stroking his jaw in distress. The thought that Brienne may no longer stomp onto the grounds for training cut through him like a knife, followed by a deep and lingering hurt. But what could he do? 

************************************************* 

Brienne was starting to feel something akin to cabin fever. She had barely set foot outside since that fateful day and her father was avoiding talking to her. She wished he would shout at her and clear the air, but he remained lost in his thoughts, unable to comprehend that his daughter had gone behind his back and against his wishes. 

She missed training and her friends at the club. She hadn’t seen anyone at all for the last couple of days, and she missed everyone acutely. Renly had tried to come round several times after she rang him in tears, but her father wouldn’t let him in, so she was denied every source of comfort she could think of. 

And Jaime… she missed him, too. Realising that she may no longer be exposed to his jokes and his laughing eyes made her realise how deep she had gone. Groaning, she had tried to wipe the image of his face from her mind, but it just wouldn’t go, leaving her feeling even more of a fool than usual. 

Now she was sitting hunched over the dining table, a mug of tea in her hands. It had gone cold some time before, but she failed to notice. Her father was in the living room again, studiously avoiding her presence. 

Her reverie was disturbed by a sharp knock on the door. She jumped in her seat, startled by the sudden noise. She heard her father getting painfully out of his chair to go and answer it, so she leapt up and beat him there, hoping her helpfulness would earn her a smile. To her disappointment it didn’t; he merely nodded and sank back down into the armchair. 

Blinking back tears, Brienne pulled back the lock on the door and opened it. 

“Hello, Freckles.” 

**************************************** 

Brienne kept expecting to wake up at any moment. This was all just too surreal; Jaime was sitting comfortably on the old sofa in her living room, looking supremely cool and confident in a crisp white shirt and jeans. The sight of him on her doorstep, the late afternoon sun crowning his golden hair, had made her gape like a fish. She’d been dreaming of him, and now he was stood in front of her, looking like a god made flesh. 

If she had been surprised, her father was absolutely floored with disbelief. Even now, he kept blinking rapidly, as if he was unsure whether he was seeing a mirage. 

Jaime was the only one who looked at home here. He sat back in the sofa, his legs crossed, casually looking around the room while she and her father fussed and fluttered around him, cheerfully ignoring their unsettled movements. 

When they were all finally seated an awkward silence fell. Jaime cleared his throat and fixed Brienne’s father with his intense gaze. 

“Mr Tarth, please forgive me for the intrusion, but I just found out that you had been unaware that your daughter was playing for the King’s Maidens.” 

Brienne glanced at her father, who was shuffling in his seat. 

“No, I did not know, and I do not take kindly to being lied to,” he responded. 

Jaime nodded, full of understanding. “Of course, and if I had known that Brienne was keeping this from you, I would have encouraged her to tell you.” 

Brienne jolted, her eyes dashing to Jaime. It was the first time he had called her by her real name. 

Jaime went on, seemingly oblivious to Brienne’s reaction. “I came here today to apologise; I should have checked that she had your permission to play before I allowed her to join the team, but I am also here because I believe Brienne has the potential to be an incredible football player.” 

Brienne couldn’t silence the gasp that escaped from her. Was he really saying these things? About _her_? 

Her father was blinking rapidly again, a look of distrust on his face. “I think I know more about my daughter’s potential than you,” he said curtly. 

Jaime merely nodded, letting the veiled insult wash over him. “Of course you do. But I just wanted you to know that if you allowed her to continue to play for the King’s Maidens, she could go far. We regularly have scouts view our matches – Brienne could be one of the lucky few to get given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” 

Blood was thundering in Brienne’s ears so loudly that she could barely hear what Jaime was saying. She turned to her father, her hopes and fears clearly writ upon her face. 

Her father frowned. “Mr Lannister…” 

“Please, call me Jaime.” 

Selwyn scowled, disliking his familiarity. “I know my daughter well, and I know what she has been through. Her head has been filled with many dreams over the years, only they have all been dashed at some point. The cruelty and jealousy of others has taken a lot from her, and it is only now that she is starting to hold her head up high.” He leaned forward in his seat. “I will not have you fill her with more empty hopes and promises. She will be going to university soon and I want her to focus on her studies. Getting a good degree and a good job should be her priorities right now. I dislike very much that she is having her head turned by these ridiculous dreams, and I especially dislike that they have led her to be dishonest with me.” 

“But Dad!” Brienne interjected. 

“No, Brienne. Enough is enough. It is time you seriously started thinking about your future.” He turned to Jaime and gave him a fierce look. “I also hope, Mr Lannister, that you understand my natural reservations about my daughter having you for a coach. While I appreciate I do not know the full story, I’m sure you cannot blame my anxiety.” 

Jaime smiled sadly. “Of course not, Mr Tarth. I completely understand.” He sighed. “I think it is time I took my leave,” he said, standing up. “But while I can say nothing in my defense with regards to my reputation, I can argue that you are completely wrong about dreams, and Brienne’s dreams in particular: they are not empty, and sometimes fighting for those dreams is what makes you a better, stronger person.” 

Selwyn sat back in his chair, surprised. Jaime nodded to him, smiled at Brienne, and then walked gracefully out of the room. Brienne instantly leapt up to follow him out of the door. 

“Jaime!” she called as she barrelled out of the door after him. 

He turned and smiled warmly at her, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yes, wench?” 

Brienne couldn’t stop herself from scowling. “You called me ‘Brienne’ in there.” 

Jaime smiled, his eyes full of laughter. “A slip of the tongue, I assure you. You know, you really should stop frowning so much. The wind will change direction one day and you will be stuck like that.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “You should stop annoying me – I’ve come out here to thank you!” 

“You have? Well, you have a funny way of going about it.” 

Brienne huffed. “Thank you for coming here to try and talk my dad round… it means a lot.” 

Jaime nodded; his face serious for once. “It’s just a shame that it looks as though it didn’t make any difference.” He sighed, looking up to lock Brienne’s eyes with his own. “You’re lucky; to have someone care that much about you…” He shrugged. “Not everyone has that.” 

Jaime’s face was clouded, which pulled tightly on Brienne’s heartstrings. But before she could say anything, Jaime resettled a nonchalant look upon his face. 

“We’ve been invited to play in Braavos this Saturday,” he said. 

Longing coursed through Brienne. “Braavos! That’s amazing! I wish I could go,” she replied sadly. 

Jaime nodded in agreement, stepping closer as he did so. “Your father may love you very much,” he murmured in a soft voice. “But that doesn’t always mean he knows what’s best for you.” He quirked his eyebrows up and stepped away from her again, much to her disappointment. 

“You’re not the first person to tell me that recently,” she admitted, wishing she could close the distance between them again. 

Jaime smiled charmingly. “Then they obviously share my genius,” he commented smugly. 

Brienne frowned and Jaime laughed in response, turning to go as he did so. “See you around, Freckles.” Brienne watched him saunter down the road, whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world, before she slowly returned to the house. 

Her father was still sitting in his armchair, a look of sheer bewilderment on his face. “Wait until I tell them down the pub that Jaime Lannister came to visit!” he chuckled to himself. 

Brienne beamed at this apparent return to his old good humour, seating herself on the arm of the sofa. “See? He’s not that bad really,” she urged. 

Her father shifted in his seat. “Well… perhaps not. But people can hide their true nature sometimes. I still wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.” 

Brienne sighed. “So I still can’t go back?” 

Selwyn shook his head, but his tone was gentle. “I don’t like lies, Brienne, and your behaviour needs some kind of punishment. And I still don’t like the idea of you being near a man like that. He has a bad reputation and a dark past, no matter how charming he is in the flesh.” 

Brienne sighed and quietly left the room. Once upstairs she sat on her bed and lost herself in her thoughts. As time passed, an observer would have seen a variety of expressions cross her face: anger, sadness, and finally, determination. Fishing out her phone, she dialled Renly’s number. Her father may be able to stop him coming round, but she could still talk to him. 

He picked up almost straightaway. “Brienne!” he cried, his voice full of concern. “Are you OK?” 

“I think so,” she replied. “Listen, Renly, I need to ask you a massive favour…” 

*********************************************** 

Jamie paced back and forth in the training ground carpark, anxiously checking his watch every few minutes. The team were slowly and rather noisily piling into the minibus that would take them to the airport. The time for their departure was approaching, but as yet, Jaime had seen no sign of the person he was looking for. 

“Dammit, wench,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll give you just five more minutes…” For the hundredth time that morning, he checked his watch. 

It was ridiculous, and he knew it. He had absolutely no idea whether she would actually show up or not. He had quizzed Arya about it, but she was clueless. And now he had built up false hopes only to have them dashed by the wench’s non-appearance. 

A final glance at his watch confirmed what he already knew – it was time to go. Swearing under his breath, he started to pull the minibus door shut, momentarily blocking out the high-pitched chattering voices within. It was then that he heard a screech of breaks behind him. He whirled round to see a flashy red car in the carpark, and out of it stepped… 

“WENCH!” he called, waving his hand. He couldn’t stop the stupid grin on his face – she’d made it! 

Brienne grinned back, but hastily turned to speak to someone who was getting out of the driver’s seat. Jaime’s mood darkened – it was that handsome dark-haired man she had been so enthusiastically hugging after her first tournament match. 

He heard her gratefully thanking the man before the two hugged tightly. Jaime’s smiled dropped a little, but his joy wasn’t completely repressed, especially when Brienne then ran over, grinning from ear-to-ear. 

“So you decided to take my excellent advice ?” he questioned as she pulled up in front of him. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Not without a great deal of hassle – my dad thinks I am spending the weekend with Renly and his family in the country. I needed to ‘get away’.” She smiled again, although this time it was tinged with guilt. 

“Well, I’m glad to have you aboard,” said Jaime, gesturing for her to get on the minibus. “To Braavos!”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and the girls take in the sights of Braavos and meet their match in Braavos Women's F.C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaackkkk! Sorry for the long delay in getting another post to you - holidays are not exactly the most productive times! Anyway, here is another chapter for you. I have, on a whim, decided to break up the original chapter into two parts as I want some extra time to work on the latter bit, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting while I sorted it out. I promise that the new chapter 13 will be good... :)
> 
> As a little aside, I couldn't remember much about Braavos, so the city described is based on some hashed research and a bit of make-believe. Sorry if I make mistakes!! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Brienne couldn’t believe she was finally on the plane to Braavos. It had taken her some time, and Renly’s charm, to convince her father to let her go for a ‘weekend in the country’ with Renly and his family, but eventually they had succeeded in winning him over. She’d had to promise to ring him everyday, which meant coordinating activities with Renly beforehand just in case her father drop-called and quizzed him about their day. It was very complicated, but all Brienne could do was pray that their story would hold up.

Her life was turning into a sordid mess, and she knew it. The lies kept mounting along with the guilt, but Brienne increasingly found herself gaining confidence in herself and her decisions. She wanted, she _needed_ to do something for herself, and she was willing to take the risk of angering her father further by making her own mistakes. 

Smiling to herself, she sat back in her seat. Economy was never comfortable for her thanks to her long limbs, so she had swapped her seat with Dany so she could poke her legs out into the aisle to stretch them out. Arya was sitting in the same row, her face pressed against the window, although Brienne wondered how she wasn’t bored of looking at blue sky and clouds by now. 

To her surprise, Jaime was slumming it in economy with them. He surely had the money for an upgrade, but right now he was cheerfully sitting some rows behind her, wedged between Meera and Ygritte, who were talking loudly and annoying the other passengers. 

Arya suddenly squealed: “I see islands! Look!” 

But of course, neither she nor Dany _could_ look because Arya’s head and her messy hair were completely blocking the window. 

“The Titan is huge!” exclaimed Arya again, giving everyone a running commentary during their descent. Brienne strained to see around her friend but failed, deciding that she would just have to wait to see the famous landmark for herself. 

The plane came smoothly into land, and soon everyone was piling off the plane. Heading out of the airport, Brienne was immediately beset by rushing, bustling crowds, dressed in a range of different attires. 

Of course, having been living in King’s Landing for a while, Brienne had grown somewhat used to the maddening press of people you found in a city, but it was only now that she realised that each city had its own pulse and atmosphere. Braavos contained a hotpot of different cultures, religions and ethnicities, which gave it a more bohemian air than that in King’s Landing. The people rushing around her were also an eclectic mix, ranging from olive-skinned women draped in brightly coloured shawls to up-and-coming young men in sharp suits. Accompanying the waves of people was a cacophony of noise; all around her Brienne could hear the sharp peal of car horns, incessant chatter and the drumming thud of hundreds of feet. Her nostrils were also assailed by the smell of toasting spices, baking bread and, of course, the pervasive smell of the sea. 

Brienne stared about her in amazement, soaking up the atmosphere and completely lost in her admiration of the city. She was so absorbed that she didn’t even notice that she had been left behind until she heard a shout behind her. 

“Freckles!” Jaime called. Brienne turned and saw him battling through the crowds towards her. “It’s a good job you’re a tall wench or we would have lost you completely!” he said with a grin. “This way – I’ve managed to secure us some much-needed transport. Gods’ know why Dany needs a suitcase the size of Oldtown for a mere weekend away,” he grumbled. Brienne grinned and followed him, trying her best to weave through the crowd of people without jostling or knocking anyone over. 

The hotel they arrived at was far grander than Brienne was expecting. It rose high above her in a shimmering shield of glass, reflecting the bright sunshine and the neighbouring high-rise buildings. Dimly, she began to wonder how on earth the club could have afforded such a place. 

Once the team had whizzed up several floors in a glass lift that left Brienne’s stomach in butterflies, they all separated to find their rooms. Brienne was sharing a spacious, comfortable room with Arya, who immediately leapt on one of the beds like a small child to test out the mattress. Brienne laughed and settled on the bed Arya was not bouncing on, taking time to enjoy her surroundings and her illicit adventure. 

“This place is amazing!” Brienne exclaimed, admiring the luxurious furnishings and the first class view over the city. 

Arya stilled her bouncing, breathlessly flopping back onto a mound of pillows. “Sure is. Never been here before, but I like it already!” 

“Me too,” grinned Brienne. “I wasn’t expecting to stay somewhere like this though. I feel a bit like an intruder.” 

Arya shrugged. “We always stay in decent places when we play away.” 

“Really? But this hotel must cost a fortune! How does the club afford it?” Brienne questioned. 

Arya scoffed. “The _club_ doesn’t pay for it, silly! Jaime always forks out.” 

Brienne’s eyes widened. “What?! He pays for all this?” she said, waving her arm around the room. 

Arya shrugged. “Sure. He has enough money. It’s like small change for him.” 

“But still… he doesn’t have to pay for a place as good as this,” commented Brienne. 

Arya huffed, leaping off the bed suddenly. “Why question it? Just enjoy it Brienne. Come on, let’s go get the others. We should have time to do some exploring.” 

Frowning, Brienne stood up and chased Arya out of the room before she lost sight of her. 

To Brienne’s joy, they did have time before the evening game to do a bit of sight-seeing, so she finally got a good look at the Titan of Braavos. Having taxied to the end of the harbour, Brienne had to crane her neck to look up at the old structure, which towered hundreds of feet above her. It really was impressive and an incredible feat of design. For once, Brienne felt very small. 

Jaime then hired them a boat to row them sedately along the well-known canals of the city. A tour guide gave them a brief history of the Free Cities and explained how Braavos had flourished thanks to its banking prowess. Brienne soaked it all up and took as many pictures as possible, before realising to her dismay that she couldn’t show them to her father upon her return. 

With these sober thoughts in mind, they came to the last attraction of their whistle-stop tour – the House of Black and White. It was a blank building that sat starkly on a little island. Brienne shuddered – it was foreboding and had an air of eerie calm about it. She was glad they couldn’t go inside due to its continued significance as a place of worship, although Arya was bitterly disappointed and complained throughout the journey back to their hotel. 

However, they now had to focus their minds on more important matters: beating Braavos Women’s F.C.. 

The club was newly formed and there was therefore very little information about the team and their usual tactics. Jaime had mined all his sources for details, but he still didn’t have much for the Maidens to go on. They had therefore settled for their favourite aggressive strategy, figuring it was best to go out hard and shock the opposition rather than adopt a softly-softly approach. 

As they were driven to the pitch, a nervous calm settled over the group. Darkness was already falling and the bright lights and unfamiliar sounds and smells of the city gave the interior of the car a dream-like quality. Brienne fidgeted in her seat, noting that Jaime also looked restless. 

When they finally scrambled out of the car at their destination, all the girls were struck by the size and grandeur of the stadium. Considering this was an arena built to house an amateur men’s and women’s football team, the Braavos authorities had certainly gone all-out. Looking round, Brienne could tell the girls were as intimidated as she was. 

Jaime clapped his hands, trying to dispel the mood. “Come on Maidens, pick your jaws off the floor and get inside. We’ve got a football match to win!” 

In the changing room Brienne could hear a surprising number of spectators outside. It added to the restless excitement she felt. She just wanted to get out there and start playing, desperate to start channelling some of the adrenaline that was building up in her system. 

Once they were all changed, Jaime came in as usual to bolster their spirits and get their minds on the game. “I see a lot of nervous faces here tonight, but just think; in the changing room next door is the unblooded Braavos team, who are probably quaking in their boots at the thought of facing the terrifying King’s Maidens. Let’s go out hard and strong, and make them regret asking us over for a ‘friendly’ game!” he cajoled. 

The girls roared their agreement and began filing out the door, but Brienne lingered behind, striding purposefully up to her coach. “If you have put my name down as Freckles Tart, I’ll kick you out of the stadium,” she threatened, locking eyes with Jaime. 

“As if I would ever do such a thing!” he replied, pretending to be wounded by her words. Brienne raised an eyebrow and made to move past him. 

“Show them what you can do,” Jaime added, gazing at her intently. Brienne nodded, her face flushing a little, and jogged out of the door to take up her position on the field. 

If the stadium had looked big on the outside, it was huge when you were stood in the middle of the pitch. Brienne felt almost like an ant scurrying around in the dirt. There were also a fair number of spectators there and the noise of their collective voices thrummed through her already taut body. 

Mentally shaking herself, she turned to face her opponents. Despite being a newly-formed team, they looked far from amateur. All looked fit and fast and they were wearing a look of sheer determination on their glowering faces. _Good_ , she thought. _I like a challenge_. 

*************************************************************

The girls sat gasping in the changing room during halftime, glugging water and generally huffing and puffing. Brienne’s prediction that this would be a tough team to beat was proving to be well-founded. 

“Gods, have they been genetically modifying people to be football players?” questioned Arya. “We’ve been hammering their defense since the whistle went but we still can’t get a look in!” 

“At least they haven’t scored either,” commented Dany, nodding at Ygritte. Ygritte grinned in response, although it was evident that she was tired – she’d been doing sterling work keeping the ball out of her goal, although her luck and skill couldn’t be expected to hold forever. 

The girls were still grumbling and moaning when Jaime strode in, taking a position in the middle of the room. Putting his hands on his hips, he surveyed the crestfallen girls. “Much as I have been admiring your beautiful passes and excellent goalkeeping, may I remind you that the object of this game is to score _goals_?” he commented, raising an eyebrow as he did so. 

Every girl in the room gave him a look that would have struck a lesser man dead, but Jaime merely grinned, soaking up their anger. “Right. Time for a change of tactics… Freckles and Wolf-girl, I want you both to move forward in a pincer movement. Too often one of you has gone ahead and then been blocked with no way to pass but back. Stick together and keep moving. You’re all standing around like rabbits caught in a headlight. It’s a big arena, but you need to use the space more constructively.” Arya and Brienne grudgingly murmured their agreement, so he turned his attention to Dany and Meera. “Maids, I want you two to move forward more – helping the defenders do their job is admirable, but we need to ensure the ball has room to move _up_ , not back. And mark that irritating dark-haired girl with the tattoos – she’s getting in the way and I want her _neutralised_.” 

Jaime was met with a sea of nodding heads, all of them gaining confidence from his strategy. Jaime grinned at them all. “Excellent – now let’s go score some goals!” 

*************************************************** 

Jaime’s strategy was starting to work – Brienne and Arya had run themselves ragged, creating openings to pass the ball between each other and keep the defenders away. Their attacks on the goal had increased and both of them had actually had a few openings to score, although the Braavos team seemed to have a kangaroo for a goalie who managed to leap and catch even the most impossible shots. 

Brienne’s lungs were burning and her legs felt as though she had run a marathon several times over. Only her stubbornness was keeping her going; otherwise, she was running on fumes. 

She swerved to avoid an aggressive tackle from the tattooed girl Jaime had vented his frustration about earlier, somehow bending the ball around her legs and keeping it out of her reach. Brienne hurtled towards the goal, seeing Arya race forward in parallel out of the corner of her eye. _Keep going_ she huffed to herself. 

Suddenly she found herself being flipped onto her back. Hitting the ground hard, she groaned as the air in her lungs was forced out. Worried faces suddenly surrounded her. 

“Brienne! Are you OK?” questioned Arya, her eyes full of concern. 

“I’m… fine…” Brienne managed to rasp out. “What… happened?” 

Arya scowled. “That tattooed bitch took you out!” 

Groaning, Brienne sat up. The referee now approached. “Are you alright, Miss?” he asked in a strong Braavosi accent. Brienne nodded and he helped her up. “It’s your penalty kick, Miss,” he said, moving her towards where the ball was set up. 

Panic surged through Brienne. A penalty? Doubt began to cloud her mind – she was terrible at penalties…. Could she really do this? 

Looking for support, she glanced at Arya, who gave her a thumbs-up. She then looked across the pitch at Jaime, who gave her a firm nod. 

Taking a deep breath, she lined herself up with the ball. 

“Come on, Brienne!” shouted Meera, who was joined in by the others. “You can do it!” 

Brienne looked up, took aim and kicked the ball. 

****************************************************************** 

The atmosphere inside the changing room was subdued to say the least. 

“I’m so sorry,” muttered Brienne for the hundredth time. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Brienne, it’s _fine_! We’ve all been there!” 

“But I let you all down!” replied Brienne, determined to keep berating herself for her mistake. 

“No you didn’t,” insisted Arya. “Any one of us could have missed that penalty shot. Next time it may be me, or Dany, or _anyone_.” 

Brienne pressed her mouth into a firm line. No matter what her friends said, she still felt disappointed that she had missed that all-important shot. 

Her gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a banging on the changing room door. Jaime whirled in, taking in the sight of all the despondent faces before setting his bright gaze on Brienne’s miserable visage. 

“Cheer up, Freckles, remember what I told you about your frowning,” he said jauntily, amusement lighting up his eyes. Brienne rewarded him with her best scowl, which caused him to laugh merrily. He then turned his attention to the rest of the group. “Seeing as we have been so chivalrous in allowing the Braavosi team to win, they’ve invited us to help them celebrate tonight. So get your things together – we wouldn’t want to miss the party.” He spun round to present another wide grin to Brienne. “I hope you’ll be wearing your scowl.” Brienne flushed red and made as though she was going to leap off the bench and hit him, but he sprang back and exited the room, chuckling as he did so. 

The girls around her started to pick up their things, an excited chatter picking up. Brienne also began to gather up her gear, before the true meaning of what Jaime had said filtered through her brain. 

“What did he mean about going out? Going out _where_?” she asked Arya. 

Her friend looked at her in surprise. “We usually go out after these away matches. It’s like a tradition. We go to a few bars, a club…” 

“Wait! A _club_? I can’t go to a club!” Brienne shrieked. 

Arya frowned. “Why not?” 

Brienne’s mouth opened and closed in an effort to get the full meaning of her distress across to Arya. “I just… can’t!” she squeaked. The idea of her standing in a room full of dancing people, sticking out like a sore thumb, completely horrified her. Even Renly had only ever succeeded in dragging her out once, and it was such a disaster he had never pestered her about it again. She simply could not bear the thought of going out now. Desperately, she hunted around for an excuse. “I… have nothing to wear!” she suddenly blurted. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Gods, you sound like my sister now! I’m sure you have something to wear, Brienne. I’ll help you choose.” 

Brienne tried her hardest to think of another excuse, but her mind drew a blank. _Gods, this is going to be so embarrassing_ , she thought to herself as she exited the changing room. First the missed penalty, and now this…


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets ready for a night out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter I'm afraid - but I promise that the next one is nice and juicy. :) Sorry for not posting more, but the chapter I am now working on is taking FOREVER to write and edit, so I am having to eke out what I do have. 
> 
> As always, enjoy!

“Humph,” said Arya as she peered into the contents of Brienne’s suitcase. “You weren’t kidding when you said you have nothing to wear.”

They were both back in their room at the hotel and Arya was trying to make good on her promise to sort out an outfit for Brienne, only it was a bit difficult considering that the only clothes Brienne had packed were T-shirts and boyfriend-style jeans. 

“I _told_ you!” Brienne grumbled, sinking onto a plush bed. “I didn’t know they would take us out!” 

Arya rolled her eyes and continued to thumb through Brienne’s clothes. Eventually, she gave up, throwing her hands into the air in defeat. 

“Looks like I can’t go…” said Brienne hopefully. But Arya was having none of it. She glared in Brienne’s direction and strode across the room to grab her phone, dialling a number. 

“Hi Dany,” said Arya, her eyes fixed determinedly on Brienne. “We have a clothing situation here and need your help… OK we’ll be there in five minutes.” Arya hung up and strode back over to Brienne. “Up, up! Your crisis prevention team is ready and waiting!” 

Brienne gripped the edge of the bed with white-knuckled hands. “Honestly, I don’t mind staying here…” 

Arya grabbed her arms and began tugging. “No excuses Brienne!” 

Brienne continued to stubbornly hold onto the bed, but it soon became clear that Arya wasn’t going to give up. Eventually she sighed and finally allowed her friend to pull her out of the room. 

***** 

Brienne had never felt so exposed in all her life: she was standing in front of the floor-length mirror in Dany’s room with Arya and Dany eying their efforts critically, their heads tilted comically to one side to take in the overall effect. For the hundredth time, she tugged feebly on the hemline of the outfit they had trussed her up in. She felt ridiculous. 

“I think it’s perfect,” hummed Dany, smiling proudly at her work. “Your legs really are _endless_ Brienne – that dress comes past the knees on me!” 

Brienne rolled her eyes and tugged at the hemline yet again. “It’s too short,” she moaned. “I’m showing even more leg than in my shorts.” 

Arya grunted. “It’s dark outside anyway, and it will be even darker inside a bar or club. Besides, it’s only halfway down your thighs – there will be girls wearing much shorter stuff than you.” 

Brienne continued to wriggle uncomfortably. “It’s alright for you!” she said, gesturing at Arya. “You’re in jeans! Why can’t I wear jeans?” 

Arya, who was sharply dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a sequined crop top, rolled her eyes. “Those baggy jeans of yours would look odd in a club – you’d stand out in them, and isn’t that what you want to avoid?” 

Muttering under her breath, Brienne turned back to her reflection. She still felt ridiculous. 

Sighing, Dany started fumbling around inside one of her many cases. “Isn’t it lucky I brought all these extra things with me!” she sang. “You’d all be lost without me!” 

This time, both Arya and Brienne rolled their eyes together. 

Dany continued to shuffle through her case, oblivious to the girls’ expressions. “Shame you don’t fit in my heels,” she commented, “although at least you brought a nice pair of pumps with you”. Brienne humphed in response, secretly relieved that her feet had been several sizes too big to fit in Dany’s delicate heels. 

Dany continued to search inside her case until she found whatever it was that she was looking for, letting out a satisfied grunt. Brienne peered over curiously as Dany straightened and pulled out an expensive-looking wooden box. Setting it on the bed, she opened it up. “Now, make-up…” 

“Make-up?” Brienne shrieked. “NO WAY!” 

“Oh Brienne! Please? For me? I have some eyeliner in here that will make your eyes look incredible. I promise!” Dany pleaded. 

Brienne backed away, almost bumping into the mirror. 

“Look,” said Arya, gently drawing her back to Dany. “Think of it as camouflage! Pretend it’s war paint or whatever. No one will be able to recognise you.” 

Flushing an array of different reds, Brienne plonked herself on Dany’s bed, motioning her to start her transformation. 

“If I get laughed at, you are the first two people who will be chucked in a canal,” she glowered. 

“Deal!” agreed Dany, leaning forward to begin her work. 

**** 

Jamie once again found himself tapping his foot impatiently. All the girls were assembled in the hotel lobby apart from Dany, Arya and Brienne. Gods’ knew what was keeping them – he’d given them more than enough time to get ready, even for image-obsessed teenage girls. 

He glanced at his watch – Meera had rung Dany to find out where they all were, and she had reassured her that they would be down in five minutes. That had been twenty minutes ago, and now Jaime’s patience was wearing thin. 

Sighing, he turned to Meera. “Call Dany again and tell her that if she and the other two troublemakers aren’t down here in one minute, we are going off without them,” he ordered. 

Meera fished out her phone and was in the process of dialling the number when the lift behind him opened with a ‘ping’. Meera grinned and pointed. “No need! There they are!” The girls around him cheered and started a series of ear-piercing cat-calls, and Jaime turned to vent his frustration on the latecomers. 

Only he said absolutely nothing. 

Standing between a grinning Arya and Dany was Brienne – but not the Brienne he was used to seeing. 

This Brienne was wearing a dark blue halterneck dress that showed off her trim shoulders and created the illusion of curves across her chest. It was cinched in at the middle, creating the impression of a waist, and it hung about halfway down her thighs, showing off endless pale, and slightly freckled, legs. 

But it was her eyes that looked so different: outlined in navy eyeliner and a slick of mascara, all her other facial features faded into the background to bring out the deep colour of her sapphire irises. Her lips, which were already large, had been left nude, and the colour of her cheeks was naturally added to by the power of her blushes. 

In short, she looked absolutely stunning. 

Meeting his eyes, she gave him a tentative smile, obviously feeling uncomfortable. Having momentarily lost control of all of his facial features, Jaime could only stare back at first, before he finally managed to shoot a quick smile in her direction. Gathering himself together, he began ushering the girls out to their waiting taxis, trying his hardest not to stare at Brienne any longer. 

It was going to be a long night.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes clubbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to post this chapter! It took an AGE to get right, but hopefully it is worth the effort. I've started it off with Brienne coming down in the lift again, as I thought it would be nice to get this moment from Brienne's perspective. You will be delighted to know that Jealous Jaime also makes a welcome reappearance. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Persuading her into the lift had taken an age, but Dany and Arya had finally managed to manoeuvre Brienne out of the hotel room. She felt like a bundle of nerves and constantly fidgeted during the short ride down. Arya kept giving her reassuring smiles, but she still didn’t feel at ease. Why did she let her friends do this to her?

Her phone in the silly excuse for a bag Dany had lent her buzzed. She dug it out and was pleased to see it was Renly. 

**Renly: How’s things in Braavos?**

She typed back furiously, aware that the lift was nearing its destination. 

**Brienne: We lost the match and now I’m in a dress. I hate Braavos.**

The reply was almost immediate. 

**Renly: You’re in a WHAT? Have you been drinking? Dammit, send me a photo now!**

**Brienne: No way. I’m in a lift getting ready to be crucified. Tell my father I love him.**

**Renly: Don’t be so melodramatic. Go get ‘em. ;-)**

Brienne snorted and stuffed her phone away, taking a deep breath as she did so. _It’s just one night_ , she told herself. _You can survive one night of feeling like a pigeon decked out like a peacock_. 

The lift doors pinged open and she saw the girls all clustered by the hotel entrance doors. Meera shouted out and pointed in their direction, causing the others to break out into a cacophony of noise. 

Brienne felt herself blushing furiously, certain that she was now the colour of beetroot. She desperately wanted to dash back inside the security of the lift, but Arya and Dany tugged her forward. 

Lifting her eyes from her feet, she was in time to see Jaime spin round. 

Her heart thudded erratically in her chest: he’d ditched the casual sportswear he wore to training and matches and replaced it with a tailored navy shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and trim waist. This was tucked into a pair of what must have been designer black jeans, which fitted his long, lean legs perfectly. Brienne had thought it impossible, but he looked even better than she had dreamed. 

Finally, she dared to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them crinkled in amusement at the sight of her trussed up like a prize pony. But she was surprised to see that they were empty of laughter, the usually bright irises darkened to the deepest jade. His eyes flicked momentarily down her pale legs, making Brienne cringe inside, before flying back up to lock with her own eyes again. His expression was unreadable, but it sent tiny shivers down Brienne’s spine. She was pretty sure no one had ever looked at her that way before, and she decided she rather liked it. 

Feeling uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze, Brienne gave him a weak smile. He hesitated for a moment before flashing a ghost of his usual grin in return. He then turned, breaking the moment, and began to hustle the girls out of the door. Brienne took a deep breath, feeling hot and starved of oxygen, before she slowly trailed after the others. She felt giddy already, and she hadn’t even taken a single sip of alcohol yet. 

Brienne was relieved to be travelling in a different taxi to the one Jaime was in. She didn’t feel as though she could hold out against his japes tonight – these clothes just left her feeling far too vulnerable. The girls around her seemed to be immune to her discomfort and chattered in a high pitch of excitement, their moroseness after the loss of the match entirely forgotten. 

Arya, who was seated next to Brienne, jabbed her in the ribs. “You’re quiet. Are you OK?” 

Brienne nodded. “I’m fine. I think I just need some Dutch Courage.” 

Arya grinned. “We’ll soon sort you out, don’t worry!” 

“You look incredible in that dress Brienne!” Asha suddenly piped up. “Try to leave some of the guys in the club for the rest of us.” 

Brienne felt heat creeping up her neck and mumbled an incoherent reply, much to everyone else’s amusement. 

Eventually the taxi pulled up outside a club called Tycho’s Cavern and they all piled out. The girls from the Braavos team were already waiting for them outside and greeted them with friendly smiles and hugs. Brienne eyeballed the outside of the club – its name was lit up in garish red lights and the windows were all blacked out, giving it a distinctly unwelcoming appearance. Gathering her courage, she linked arms with Arya and strode inside, ignoring the looks given to her by the bouncers on the door. 

_At least they didn’t mock me_ , she thought to herself, remembering the comments made to her on the first and last time Renly took her out. She’d had to stop Renly getting into a fight he couldn’t possibly win, although she loved him for leaping to her defense so gallantly. 

The club inside was not much more inviting than the outside: it was hot and smoky, and although the night was still young, it was packed full of people. To Brienne’s dismay, however, it wasn’t as dark as she was expecting. 

The group pushed their way through to the bar and Brienne found Ygritte at her elbow. 

“What’cha drinking, Brienne?” she asked above the din of loud voices and thumping music. 

“I don’t know…” Brienne hesitated. She was always rubbish at ordering drinks in bars: she never seemed to like whatever she ordered and she always suspected that other people were judging her choice. She therefore decided to stick with a safe option. “I think I’ll have a lemonade,” she finally answered. 

Ygritte stared at her as if she had just grown horns. “Nuh ah, no way!” she said, violently shaking her head. She then leaned over the counter and got the barman’s attention. Brienne couldn’t hear what she said, but it _definitely_ didn’t sound like lemonade. Her fears were realised when a beer and a glass of white wine appeared. Ygritte shoved the wine in her direction with a grin. “Lemonade for you!” she sang, her eyes gleaming. 

Brienne sighed and accepted the glass. At least now she had something to hold onto while she stood awkwardly at the bar. She sipped at the wine anxiously, looking round for Jaime. Her heart dropped a little bit when she saw that he was encircled by the girls from the Braavos team, who were all clinging onto him and whispering in his ear. He was gently trying to disentangle himself from them only to have another girl try to seize his attention. Brienne looked away, glugging on her wine and wishing she was back in the safety and quiet of her hotel room. 

They stayed clustered at the bar for some time, her friends gossiping and laughing around her. She finished her wine, a pleasant buzz in her head, and found her glass mysteriously replenished. She began to enjoy herself and relax a bit more – no one had said or done anything untoward, and she was surrounded by people she enjoyed spending time with. 

Arya suddenly tugged on her arm. “Those guys have been checking you out all night!” she murmured in her ear, tossing her head in the direction of a group of Braavosi men. Brienne’s heart sank – no doubt they’d start laughing soon. They always did, eventually. 

Arya didn’t sense her distress. “Pity you’re with Renly, otherwise you should go and talk to them!” 

“Renly?” Brienne squeaked, before remembering her friend’s misunderstanding. “Listen, Arya, Renly isn’t my…” 

But Arya wasn’t listening. “Seeing as you are off the menu, I’m going to go over instead!” she cried, turning to grin at Brienne. She then stalked off towards her prey, who watched her approach with a mixture of interest and trepidation. Brienne looked after her longingly – she couldn’t help but admire her confidence. If only she could do that! 

She was so busy watching Arya that she didn’t notice a dark-haired man appear at her side. When she did, she gave a little jump of surprise. 

“So sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

The man was shorter than her, but handsome, with tanned skin and eyes that were almost black. He was smiling pleasantly at her, but Brienne was still wary. 

“It’s fine, I just didn’t see you.” She tried to move away, but the man followed. 

“You’re very beautiful. What’s your name?” 

Brienne scoffed and tried to re-join her friends, who had begun to move towards the dancefloor. To her irritation, the man followed. 

“Please tell me your name, Blue Eyes,” he persisted, placing a hand on her arm. Brienne looked at it in astonishment. The man now drew nearer. “Every man in this room wants you, but you won’t find better than me…” 

“Is everything OK, Freckles?” 

Brienne turned in relief to find Jaime standing at her side. He was glaring at the other man, who slowly removed his hand from her arm. The man gave a slight bow and began to withdraw. “My apologies,” he said. “I thought the lady was unaccompanied.” 

“You thought wrong,” Jaime said in an icy voice, his arm wrapping possessively around Brienne’s waist, making her jump with the unexpected contact. The man apologised again, but Jaime continued to stare darkly after him until he disappeared back into the crowd. He then turned his attention back to Brienne with a smirk. 

“Sorry, Freckles. I seem to have chased away your admirer.” He didn’t look very sorry at all though, she noticed, the club lights picking up the hidden anger in his eyes. 

“He wasn’t an _admirer_ ,” she snorted, sipping her wine to calm her nerves. 

“He looked as though he was,” Jaime persisted, his eyes darkening. He was standing very close to her and hadn’t yet withdrawn his arm. His closeness meant she could smell that wonderful pine smell that seemed to follow him everywhere. 

Brienne pulled a face and Jaime laughed, his merry eyes crinkling at the edges. “Now there’s the wench we all know so well,” he commented, smiling widely at her. Brienne scowled and went to sip at her wine again, which to her surprise she found was almost empty. 

“Need a refill?” smirked Jaime. Brienne shook her head, having lost track of how much she’d had already, but it was too late – Jaime was pressing another glass of wine into her hand with a wicked smile. 

“It’s very sweet of you to dress to match me, you know,” he said, running a quick glance down her dress, the colour of which almost matched his navy shirt. 

Brienne glared at him. “I did _not_ dress to match you! This dress just happened to be the only one Dany had that vaguely fitted me.” 

Jaime just grinned. “Oh come, _Freckles Tart_! Don’t be so modest! I’m deeply touched.” His eyes were dancing now, mocking her with their intensity. 

Brienne took another sip of her drink, blushing furiously. Why did he always insist on making her so uncomfortable? 

Jaime stepped closer so that they were eye-to-eye. “What would that man of yours say if he knew you were flirting with strangers and trying to accessorise your outfit to mine?” he murmured, leaning in towards her ear conspiratorially. 

Brienne imagined that all the blood in her body had now settled in her face. She didn’t think it was possible to blush this much, but it seemed she had extra reserves she never knew about. “He’s not ‘my man’,” she grunted, trying desperately not to think about Jaime’s proximity and the velvety feeling of his breath on her ear and neck. 

“No?” he replied, quirking an eyebrow at her. 

“No,” she said firmly. 

“Are you sure he knows that?” 

Brienne looked at him in surprise. “Yes! I think I can very safely say that he knows we are just friends.” 

Jaime’s eyes sparkled and he grinned wolfishly at her. He leaned in to say something else but Arya and Dany interrupted him. 

“You’re coming with us!” cried Arya, grabbing Brienne’s arm and putting her already-empty glass back on the bar. 

“What? Where?” questioned Brienne, as she found herself being dragged away. 

“Time to dance, that’s why!” crowed Dany, who had gripped Jaime’s arm in a vice-like hold and was pulling him relentlessly after her. 

Brienne, dizzy with wine, was powerless to refuse and soon found herself in the middle of a thrashing crowd, all of whom were writhing to the music that was blasting out of the speakers. Arya instantly began throwing wild shapes, putting the other revellers to shame. Dany positioned herself opposite her, trying to ape Arya’s crazed moves, causing Brienne to laugh and shake her head. 

She glanced over at Jaime, who was also chuckling at Dany and Arya. Then, to Brienne’s astonishment, he held out his hand in invitation. She stared at it for a few moments, mapping out the lines on his palm before she hesitantly placed her own hand in his. She was immediately impressed by its warmth, which sent little tingles through her own hand and up her arm. 

Jaime grinned wickedly at her, and began to spin her around. The wine made her feel lighter than air and the bright lights and thudding music made her feel as though she was flying through some kind of dream. And in the middle of it all was Jaime, his green eyes sparkling as he twirled her expertly across the floor. 

However, they were then separated as the posse of Braavosi girls muscled in, surrounding Jaime and cutting Brienne off. The spinning had made her head whirl and she suddenly felt disorientated and in need of some air. 

Brienne pushed through the crowds, desperately searching for the exit until she stumbled through a door that led to a small outdoor area. The world tilted sickeningly and she thought she was going to fall when a pair of strong hands caught her around her waist and pulled her upright again. 

“Woah, steady there, Freckles! I wouldn’t recommend crawling on the floor in _that_ dress.” 

Brienne leaned heavily against Jaime as the world continued to spin. “Ugh, this is why I don’t drink! I only had a few glasses of wine…” she moaned. 

Jaime chuckled, turning her to face him. “The great giantess is felled by just a few glasses of wine. Who knew?” Brienne did her best to scowl at him, but the concentration required to remain upright made it difficult to put her usual effort behind it. 

Slowly she became conscious of the fact that Jaime was still holding her close and supporting her wobbly body. The pine smell once again invaded her senses, prompting her to lean closer to its source. She glanced back up to her rescuer’s face and found it empty of its earlier mockery. His eyes were dark and unreadable again, which caused Brienne’s heart to thud erratically and painfully against her chest. Slowly, as if afraid of frightening her, Jaime raised a hand and gently moved a lock of straw-blonde hair away from her face. 

“Jaime…” she murmured, her voice sounding thick and unusually soft. 

“Mmm?” he hummed, his fingers trailing lightly through her hair. 

“Thank you… for coming to my house and trying to change my dad’s mind. It really meant a lot. You were like a…” 

“Knight in shining armour?” he finished, his characteristic smile breaking out. “You’d be wrong though, wench. If this was a fairytale, you would be the white knight saving the damsels in distress and I would be the black knight seeking to lead them astray.” 

Brienne frowned. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d be a white knight, too,” she insisted. 

Jaime smiled again, a little more sadly this time. “Only in your world,” he replied. Gently, he ran his thumb along her cheek. “Have you ever been in love before?” he asked in a quiet voice. 

Brienne blinked, his blazing green eyes almost blinding her. “No,” she answered, her voice catching slightly. Jaime smiled the same sad smile, still stroking her cheek. “Have you?” she suddenly blurted out, her curiosity overwhelming her. 

“Once,” he said after a pause. “But she didn’t love me back – at least, not in the same way.” 

Sympathy bloomed in Brienne’s heart at the same time as a stab of jealousy coursed through her. “But you’ve never been pictured with anyone…” she commented, thinking it through. Suddenly, it dawned on her. “Cersei Baratheon…” she breathed, the pieces coming together. Jaime smiled tightly, the hurt clear in his eyes. “Is that why she came to the training ground?” Brienne asked. 

Jaime nodded. “She likes to come back periodically to prod my jealousy and remind me of what I’ve lost. Only this time, she didn’t get the reaction she expected.” 

Brienne frowned. “Why not?” 

Jaime’s eyes sparkled and lost their look of pain. “Because I’ve moved on, Brienne.” 

The use of her name, her real name, sent excited shivers all through her body. Jaime must have felt it because he suddenly clutched her tighter and slipped one of his hands behind her head. Brienne’s eyes widened as he inched closer until his lips gently pressed on hers. 

It was just the merest brush of contact but it took Brienne completely by surprise, causing her to tremble all over. Jaime moved away from her slightly, his bright eyes looking into hers questioningly, surprisingly hesitant. Maybe it was the wine, or the desire induced by weeks of dreams about green eyes and golden hair, but Brienne suddenly found the courage to close the distance herself this time, softly meeting his lips. Jaime sighed and closed his eyes, the hand behind her head tangling in her short hair as she met him, kiss for kiss. 

“Brienne?” 

The shock in the voice made Brienne and Jaime spring apart to find Arya staring at them in complete astonishment. Before either she or Jaime could say anything, Arya’s face clouded with anger. 

“You bitch!” she shouted, whirling round and shoving her way back inside the club. 

“Arya!” cried Brienne, alarmed by her reaction. “Wait!” But Arya didn’t listen and she was soon out of sight. 

“Shit,” muttered Jaime eloquently, and Brienne once again felt her world start to crumble.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne deals with the aftermath of the events in Braavos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one for you I'm afraid - work and life are manic at the moment, so I am only averaging writing a measly 500 words a day. Not good! Lots of good things to come though, so stay tuned!
> 
> I've been loving the theories on why Arya was so angry. I wrestled over whether to follow the fall-out in the film, but it was tricky seeing as I didn't believe in Arya fancying Jaime. I therefore hope I was able to thread in a few hints as to why Arya reacted the way that she did. That moment in the club is a great scene in the film, so I was really loathe to cut it out!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

Brienne’s remaining time in Braavos was sour: Arya refused to talk to her and insisted on switching rooms with Ygritte when they returned to the hotel. Brienne was at a complete loss to understand Arya’s severe reaction, but she was given no opportunity to find out or explain what had happened. It was like an iron wall had come up between the pair of them, and no matter what Brienne did, she couldn’t bring it down.

Dany and the other girls tried to mediate, but Arya wasn’t communicating with anyone, and Brienne felt too confused to explain what had happened. Worse still, Jaime was distant around her, making her wonder if that night in the club had been a moment of madness on his behalf. 

Things didn’t get much better when she arrived back in King’s Landing. She was filing out of the airport after the others when her phone buzzed. 

“Hi Renly,” she answered despondently. 

“Brienne,” Renly’s voice was tight. “Your father knows.” For a wild second, Brienne imagined that her father knew about her kissing Jaime, but she soon pushed that ridiculous thought to one side. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, dreading the answer. 

“Apparently the bloody local paper printed an article about your team jetting off to Braavos – he saw it and instantly rang me up demanding the truth.” Brienne was silent, closing her eyes in acute agony. “Brienne?” Renly asked anxiously, “Are you OK?” 

“I’ll be fine. He can’t hate me much more than he already does. Thanks for letting me know.” 

“I’m sorry. So much for our cunning plans, eh?” 

Brienne rang off and clambered into the waiting minibus, noting that Arya had sat right at the back in order to avoid her completely. _At least_ , she thought, _things couldn’t possibly get worse_. 

She still felt shamefaced when she hopped off the bus in the training ground carpark and spotted her father. He was leaning against his car, a dark look upon his face. Brienne felt her teammates’ sympathy as she walked slowly over to him, not knowing what to say or do. Silently, her father opened the door of the car and she got in, looking steadfastly down into her lap. He got in beside her and drove off, neither one of them attempting to make any conversation. It was one of the longest and most uncomfortable drives of Brienne’s life. 

************** 

The next couple of days saw Brienne and her father establish a kind of stalemate, with neither side willing to breach their position and offer an olive branch. Brienne hated the lack of activity – it left her to replay events over and over in her mind until eventually she couldn’t take it any longer. 

Grabbing her jacket, she dashed out of the door before her father could stop her and turned her feet in the direction of Arya’s house. She just had to try and make amends with her friend and find out what had turned Arya so decidedly against her. 

Walking down the well-kept streets and past the manicured lawns left Brienne feeling intimidated now that she didn’t have Arya’s excitable chatter to distract her. At first, she wasn’t sure if she could remember which house was hers, but after a few wrong turns she finally identified it. It took her all her courage to walk up to the door and knock, but she managed it, only to have to wait nervously while someone came to answer. 

“Brienne! What a pleasant surprise!” Catelyn beamed at her, leading Brienne to guess that Arya hadn’t told her mother about what had transpired in Braavos. Catelyn stood to one side to let her in, asking her pleasantly about her health and her old ankle injury. 

Brienne felt embarrassed by her maternal concern, all the while conscious that if Catelyn knew how she had upset her daughter, her greeting may not have been so warm. She therefore muttered some replies before asking to see Arya. “Of course!” Catelyn chimed. “Although she has been so down since she came back from Braavos – that defeat hit her hard.” 

Brienne flushed, but luckily Arya’s mother didn’t read too much into it, waving her upstairs after giving her directions to Arya’s room. 

When she reached what she thought was the correct door, Brienne knocked tentatively. There was no reply, so she mustered the courage to slowly open it. It creaked as she did so, cutting into the uncomfortable silence of the room beyond. 

To her surprise, the room was dimly lit, the curtains only having been half drawn back after the morning broke. Blinking to accustom her eyes to the gloom, Brienne stepped nervously into the room. Eventually she made out a round lump under a pile of bedclothes. At first she wasn’t sure if Arya was under there, but then the bundle moved and a wild head of hair made itself visible. 

“Arya?” she whispered, reluctant to disturb the quiet of the room. 

At the sound of her voice, Arya shot upright. Her grey eyes were dark and stormy, her expression frosty. Brienne’s heartbeat quickened and her mouth went dry. Maybe this was a mistake. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Arya hissed, still huddled under her protective blankets. 

“I wanted to apologise… explain… I wanted to find out why you hate me!” Brienne stuttered, her eyes glued to the grey whirlpools in her friend’s face. 

Arya laughed, a harsh biting sound that made Brienne quiver inside. “You don’t need to explain – I understand completely! I should have guessed really.” 

Brienne stared at her, completely nonplussed. “Guessed what? I don’t understand! I know it was a mistake. I’ve made a complete fool of myself, but I don’t understand why you hate me so much.” 

“You really don’t have a clue? Oh that’s priceless. Well, _Brienne_ , from where I was standing it was all very clear - you thought you’d shit on my dreams by getting Coach to send a scout to watch _you_ play instead! I noticed he had started paying you special attention, but I thought that was because you were a decent player. I didn’t realise you were giving him favours on the side. Now I guess I know why this scout he promised me has never materialised.” 

Brienne was agape with shock and surprise. “What? Is _that_ what you think I was doing?” she exclaimed. 

Arya snorted derisively. “Don’t deny it, Brienne. I saw the look on your face when we watched that women’s match together. You obviously just couldn’t stand the thought of me making it ahead of you.” 

“That’s not what I was thinking at all!” Brienne cried, tears beginning to prick her eyes. “Look, what happened in Braavos… I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing! There was no hidden motive!” 

Arya continued to glare at her, before lowering her voice dangerously. “I could still tell someone what I saw, you know. Then Coach would be fired and you will be stuck in King’s Landing with me.” 

Brienne stared in disbelief at her friend. “Arya, I _swear_ I wasn’t doing something as ridiculous as seducing Coach to get a scout to watch me play.” 

“Then why were you with him?” Arya shot back, raising an eybrow. “You hate him.” 

“I…. don’t…” Brienne stuttered. 

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. Have you forgotten your boyfriend? What do you think Renly would say about this? Does he know his girlfriend is fawning over her coach for favours?” 

Brienne flushed. “Arya, I have told you over and over. Renly is NOT my boyfriend!” 

“Perhaps I should tell him and we’ll see.” 

Brienne threw her arms up in exasperation. “Yeah, you do that. He can then have yet another amusing anecdote to tell his BOYFRIEND.” 

Arya’s shocked face was priceless, and if Brienne hadn’t been so upset, she would have laughed. However, now was not the time, so silence hung in the room, neither one knowing what to say. “Goodbye, Arya,” Brienne finally muttered, running out and down the stairs, roughly brushing her trailing tears away as she went. She thought she heard Catelyn call out as she fled, but she did not pause to find out, concentrating instead on running towards the front door and barrelling through it. She continued to run down the street until the exertion forced her back to a walking pace. 

Brienne just couldn’t believe that her friend would associate such bad motives to her. It certainly explained her anger when she spotted her and Jaime, but to misinterpret what she had seen so badly was completely bewildering. Brienne shook her head in exasperation. She had tried so hard to make Arya see that she had it all wrong, but nothing she had said had made any difference. The thought of no longer having Arya as her friend hurt her deeply and she wished over and over that she could change her mind. But perhaps it just wasn’t to be.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reflects on how badly he has messed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! It's another shortie, but this is all Jaime's POV! Thanks to Alias_sd6 and justme for their comments, which inspired me to write this section. It was originally going to be part of a bigger chapter, but I think this works better as a standalone interlude. I will hopefully get the big chapter posted either tomorrow or the day after - so not long to wait!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Wow, he’d really screwed things up this time. He really was the stupidest idiot in the whole of Westeros. One minute everything was fine, and now it was a steaming mess.

He’d been concerned when Brienne had dashed away from the dancefloor. Straining to see above the jostling crowds, he’d spotted her frantically ducking through an exit. He tried to follow her straightaway, but those damn Braavos girls made it hard for him to move without resorting to force. When he finally managed to dodge their grasping hands, he had to battle his way off the dancefloor, each step proving to be an effort thanks to the closely packed groups. Eventually he made it to the side of the room and found the doorway Brienne had gone through. He made it just in time – Brienne was wobbling on her feet and looked as though she was about to fall. Dashing forward, he grabbed her around the waist just as she went to topple over. He half expected her to push him off once she had righted herself, but to his surprise (and yes, _damn it_ , his pleasure), she had leant into him, using him as a support. 

She was quite clearly drunk, a fact that was made even more evident by the fact that when he turned her to face him, her wide blue eyes were a little unfocused, but no less beautiful for it. He hadn’t meant to do or say anything other than help her back inside and get her in a taxi back to the hotel to sleep it off, but instead, he found himself holding her tighter, enjoying the warm feeling of her in his arms. Thanks to her height, he could stare directly into her azure eyes, which were picking up the lights of the city like a summer sky strewn with stars. He found himself telling her about Cersei, Gods knew why, and it left him feeling so tainted in the face of her innocence, especially when he saw pity flash across her face. He’d just told her he’d stupidly loved another woman, whom he had allowed to use and abuse him for years, and instead of laughing at his idiocy, she felt compassion, and it wasn’t the kind of compassion that made him feel weak and useless – it was a pity that naturally stemmed from her own kind nature. 

It was too much and too intoxicating. He’d kissed her even though he’d known that it was wrong and that she probably would never allow it had she been sober. But then she’d kissed him back, and he lost all rational thought – at least until Arya’s voice had cut through the moment like a hot knife through butter. 

Now he felt restless. Brienne had immediately rushed after her friend, obviously coming to her senses. He didn’t see her again until the next morning in the hotel lobby. Her eyes were red and she was hunched into herself, clearly regretting what happened. She was probably even feeling disgusted that he had taken advantage of her and was weighing up the pros and cons of telling the club. Hell, perhaps she and Arya would tell the club together. 

He wasn’t worried about being fired per se, but losing the coaching position would mean he would once again be adrift, with no purpose or meaning to his day-to-day routine. However, none of that would matter if he had gone about things the right way… if he had talked to Brienne first, and told her… what? That he was infatuated with her? That wouldn’t be a smart move at all. Well, if he had told her _something_ , if only to find out if she felt the same instead of clutching her to him and brazenly trying to claim her as his own, then perhaps losing the coaching position wouldn’t have been so hard. Brienne would be worth it. 

But that thought was ridiculous, of course. She’d never want him if she knew all there was to know. She thought he was some kind of ‘white knight’, when in reality he brought chaos in his wake. He had so many secrets, and the darkest was one that he thought he’d never be able to share with her. 

Still, he should have apologised, even if she didn’t want to hear it. He’d tried to catch her eye all throughout their remaining time in Braavos, and had even tried to engineer it so that he could talk to her alone, but the rest of the team had rallied around both her and Arya, and separating them from her was impossible. It was probably too late now – best to leave her be and focus on being a coach. That is, if he could still _be_ a coach after this.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes it to the semi-final match and Jaime finally reveals his darkest secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a longer, juicier chapter for you all! I found this one quite a struggle to write, so forgive me if it feels a bit disjointed. I also hope you approve of my 'Kingslayer' story. The "It's better to burn than to rot" quote is by Paul Russell in 'The coming storm'.
> 
> We are rollicking on towards the end now. I'm not sure how many chapters that will take - possibly another three, but we'll see!
> 
> As ever, thanks for all of your comments and kudos - it's much appreciated!

The impasse between her and her father was still in place when Brienne returned to the house. The next day was the day of the semi final, and Brienne had no idea if she would be able to make it to the match or not. She had run out of excuses and lies, and her father refused to talk to her about anything that went beyond mundane requests to pass the salt across the table or switch the lights on.

In the event, Brienne simply left, just as she had the day before. Her father had headed out to meet some old friends at the pub, so Brienne simply picked up her things, locked the house and headed to the training ground. No doubt he would return before she did, but Brienne reasoned that she couldn’t really get into more trouble. 

She’d hoped that Arya would have had time to mull over their conversation and realise that she had jumped to some ridiculous conclusions, but her hopes were dashed when she set foot into the changing room. Arya had pointedly chosen to change on a different bench to where she usually sat with Brienne, and when Brienne tried to catch her eye, she steadfastly ignored her. Sighing, Brienne started to change and mentally prepare herself for the match. 

As usual, a knock on the door heralded the entrance of Jaime. Her face flaming, Brienne stared studiously at her boots. They hadn’t spoken properly since ‘that night’, and Brienne didn’t really know what to say or do. Glancing up quickly, it was evident that Jaime was also doing his best to avoid her, positioning himself in a corner of the room that partially blocked Brienne from his vision. 

“Right Maidens, we are just one tiny step away from the finals and all-out victory. White Harbour Women’s F.C. may have one of the best defense records in the league, but they are certainly no match for our sheer cunning. We’ve had a little taste of defeat, and I’m sure you will all agree that winning is better for our digestion. So, let’s go out there and grab that place in the finals!” 

The girls cheered and followed Jaime out of the room. Brienne felt a little stab of pain as she realised that he was forgoing his usual pre-match torment by exiting the room as quickly as possible. _Everything is so messed up_ , she thought to herself sadly as she trudged out to the pitch. 

Her spirits were lifted somewhat by the sight of Renly once again occupying a front row seat in the stands. Loras was with him and they both waved wildly at her. Brienne grinned back, glad that at least _some_ of her friends hadn’t abandoned her. 

Taking her position on the pitch, Brienne noticed that a fine drizzle had started up, making her shiver and even more eager to get the match started. She glanced across at Arya, who was bouncing up and down on the spot, the picture of barely contained energy. She must have felt Brienne’s gaze, as she suddenly shot her a dark look before turning her angry eyes back on her opponents. Luckily, the whistle then went and Brienne could push her worries to one side for the time being. 

********************** 

“Brienne?” Selwyn called into the empty, echoing house. “Are you here?” Silence met him. He paused for a moment in the living room, searching round as if he would discover Brienne hiding behind the sofa as she used to when she was a little girl. He sighed – things had been so much simpler then. There was none of this angst and anger, and he knew that his daughter would tell him everything. Now, however, it was all different. There were lies and arguments that left both sides wounded and hurt. Selwyn just couldn’t understand how it had all changed so quickly, and he didn’t know what to do to make it all better. He just wanted to _protect_ Brienne, and yet she didn’t seem to understand. So here he was, standing in an empty house that used to be filled with love and laughter, at a complete loss as to what to do. 

Of course, he knew where she had gone. He suspected she would go there as soon as he left the house. His lunchtime get-together was entirely fabricated – Brienne wasn’t the only one who could lie, it would seem. He wasn’t fully sure why he did this – he’d known that she would go, but a part of him still wanted to test her to see if, perhaps, she decided against it. And now he had to deal with his disappointment. 

He glanced at the clock. The match would probably be starting now… Making his mind up, he seized his car keys from the sideboard and strode back out of the house. Perhaps it was time to see Brienne play for himself. 

***** 

Brienne soon realised that the team had truly earned their reputation as excellent defenders – breaking through to their goal was ridiculously challenging, and their goalie seemed to have arms that could reach even the best-placed shot. Brienne ran forward, her arms and legs pumping as she saw Asha steal the ball from the opposition’s centre. Arya was already forward, and when a defender closed in on Asha, she deftly sent it flying in Arya’s direction. Swiftly, Arya charged ahead, Brienne running in parallel with her. Suddenly the other defender began to bear down on Arya, but Brienne realised that she was without a mark and running into empty space. “Arya! Pass it to me!” she called. 

In former days, Arya would have immediately sent the ball over to her teammate, but this time, Brienne saw her grit her teeth and continue to plough on towards the goal. However, the defender was just too good, and Arya lost control of the ball. 

“What are you doing? Pass the ball, Arya!” bellowed Jaime from the sidelines. Arya shot him a look of pure distaste and made to chase the ball back down the pitch. 

The White Harbour striker was now within shooting distance of the goal and gave it a punishing kick towards the net. Fortunately, Ygritte had her eyes wide open and somehow managed to snatch the ball from the air before it had the chance to sail past her. Brienne sighed in relief and readied herself for a new attack. 

Dany fired the ball over to Arya, who once again began to streak ahead. This time, however, she spotted the defender heading in her direction, and smoothly passed the ball over to Brienne. Only the goalie now stood between her and the first goal of the game. Brienne used every ounce of energy she had to push herself towards the goal before spinning the ball towards the top right-hand corner of the net. She held her breath as it curved towards the goal, the goalie leaping into the air. But she missed! Suddenly the ball was in the back of the net and Brienne stood there dumbfounded as her teammates rushed over to crush her in a tight hug. “Well done Bri!” they chorused, although Brienne noticed that Arya had hung back, a scowl still on her face. 

Chastened, Brienne moved back into position, fervently hoping that Arya’s anger would soon burn out. The Maidens quickly gained control of the ball again, buoyed by the success of their first goal. “Brienne!” shouted Dany, swerving to avoid a tackle before booting the ball in her direction. Brienne met the ball and turned to begin a fresh assault on her opponents’ goal when suddenly pain shot through her legs and she found herself plummeting to the ground. 

“Arg!” she groaned, clutching her shin. 

A girl from White Harbour loomed over her. “You should watch where you’re going you big bitch.” 

Anger flared in Brienne. “What did you just call me?” 

“You heard, you fucking ugly bitch.” 

Brienne saw red. She’d put up with jabs and taunts all her life and had become adept at ignoring them, but what with everything that had happened over the last few days, she just couldn’t take it anymore. Ignoring the pain from her shin, she shot to her feet, using her height to overshadow the other girl. “How dare you!” she bellowed, and before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and shoved the other girl. The force sent her backwards, but Brienne followed, her rage spiralling out of control. “How _dare_ you!” she cried again, unleashing yet another powerful push. This time the girl nearly staggered to the floor and Brienne rushed forward to press her advantage. But as she did so, her teammates circled in front and blocked her access. Dany was also holding onto her arm and yelling at her, and slowly, her rage cooled. 

The referee now jogged over to check that the other girl was alright. When he was reassured that all she had was a few bruises, he called Brienne over in a rough voice. 

“Number 10! Come here right now!” he yelled.# 

Brienne reluctantly approached. Suddenly, a red card was flashed in her face. “That’s a red card offense!” announced the referee. “Please leave the pitch.” 

Brienne flushed all the way down to her toes as her teammates argued on her behalf, but it was no good – the red card stood and Brienne had to make a shamefaced walk back to the changing room. Staring morosely at her boots, she didn’t notice her father sitting in the stands next to Renly and Loras. 

****** 

“What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve never seen that kind of behaviour from you, and I hope I never see it again!” 

Brienne shrank back against the wall in the changing room as her teammates looked on. Jaime was quite evidently angry - his eyes glittered and his habitual frown had deepened to cause grooves in his forehead. The Maidens had somehow still managed to pull victory from the jaws of defeat despite being a player down, but this evidently hadn’t put Jaime in a better mood. 

Brienne had never felt so ashamed, and it was hard to keep the tears back, but she succeeded. Eventually Jaime turned away, running a hand through his golden hair in an attempt to dispel his irritation. 

“You’re just lucky they’re not suspending players, otherwise I’d have no choice but to sit you out for the final,” he finished, moving away from Brienne’s cowered form. Looking round the rest of the room, he praised the other girls’ efforts and congratulated them on their position in the final, before exiting the room as swiftly as he had come. 

Brienne took a deep shuddering breath and finally dared herself to look up at her teammates. Sympathy swam in all of their eyes, including Arya’s, who was nevertheless trying to disguise the fact with a half-hearted scowl. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to see their pity, and she rushed out of the room. 

She spied Jaime almost instantly as he was pacing up and down the path outside the changing rooms. Spotting her, he started to stride away, but Brienne easily caught up with him. Anger, hurt and frustration began to boil over inside her, so she raced around him to block his exit. 

“Why did you do that? You _knew_ the ref was out of order!” she shouted, drawing herself up to her full height in an effort to intimidate him. 

Jaime ran a hand over his face exasperatedly. “You _pushed_ another player, not once, but twice! What else do you expect?” 

“She fouled me! She took my legs out! You didn’t have to yell at me,” she argued, her voice dropping a little at the end as a sob threatened to break out. 

Seeing her eyes fill with unshed tears, Jaime’s manner softened slightly. “Of course I have to shout at you! I have to treat you like everyone else, don’t you understand?” He sighed, moving a little closer to her. “Look, we all saw it. She did foul you, but you completely overreacted.” 

Brienne raised her wide blue eyes. “That’s not all,” she said, her voice sounding croaky with the force of her emotions. “She called me a ‘fucking ugly bitch’, but I guess you don’t really understand what that feels like, do you?” Brienne lowered her head and let her tears drip down her face and onto her mud-caked boots. 

Jaime was silent for a moment, but then she felt his warm hand resting lightly on her shoulder, as if he was afraid she would break. 

“I _do_ understand,” he murmured, his voice soft and strained. “I’ve spent the last few years having the name ‘Kingslayer’ tossed at me wherever I go. Fans screamed it at every match I played, and every article, every news item about me always goes back to it.” 

Brienne looked up, but he averted his gaze, not wanting her to see the pain it caused him. “But in your case, it’s not true,” she whispered, daringly placing her own large hand over his, which was still resting on her shoulder. Jaime’s eyes flicked back to hers momentarily before looking away again, but it was enough time for Brienne to see an emotion she hadn’t expected – guilt. 

Jaime sighed and gently removed his hand from Brienne’s shoulder. Her skin beneath her shirt pimpled with the sudden removal of its warmth. 

“You know what they say, there’s no smoke without… fire,” he muttered, running a hand through his blond hair, mussing it up. 

An icy shiver ran through Brienne. “What _did_ happen?” she blurted out, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer. 

Jaime paused, his eyes locking with hers. She could see a war of emotions fighting in them, unsure as yet which one would win out. Slowly, he came to a decision. 

“Aerys Targaryen was a brilliant manager,” he began. “He was an excellent strategist, and he knew how to get the very best out of his players and win matches. Hell, when I first joined the team I worshipped the ground he walked on. But I soon came face-to-face with the reality.” Jaime stopped, as if unsure whether to continue. 

“The reality?” Brienne prompted. 

“Yes… behind closed doors Aerys was an out of control bully. His rage and his physical and verbal abuse of the players was well-known in the club, but we all just grinned and bore it because at the end of the day, he was good at what he did – too good to get rid of and risk another team benefiting from his talents. 

“Over the next couple of years things got worse. He drank heavily and he used to reek of whisky. His outbursts became more and more frequent as a result, and for some reason, he became obsessed with fire. He used to talk about it all the time. 

“It all came to a head at that final. We’d lost, and we were expecting Aerys to go bonkers when we came off the pitch. But weirdly, he wasn’t in the changing room – he’d disappeared – so we got changed and started filing out to head home. I left the youngest player, Pod, finishing up on his own. He was pretty upset as he’d missed a chance to score a goal in the last 10 minutes of the game, so he was taking ages to get changed – a bit like you when you missed that penalty,” he added, a ghost of a smile passing fleetingly over his face. 

“I was almost out of the stadium when I realised I must have left my security pass in the changing room, so I went back. I heard the screams down the corridor.” 

“Screams?” breathed Brienne, her eyes wide. 

“I ran into the changing room and saw Pod on the floor. Blood was pouring out of his nose and mouth and Aerys was leaning over him, his knuckles bruised from where he’d been pounding Pod’s face. As I stood there, he looked up and smiled, almost as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Then he got out a bottle of his favourite whisky, and he poured the whole lot over Pod, who screamed as the alcohol seeped into his cut flesh. 

“I was in shock and I didn’t know what to do. I was about to start trying to coax Aerys away so I could get Pod some help, but then he straightened and looked me in the eye. I could see that he was beyond reasoning - he was muttering unintelligible things to himself and his eyes were unfocused. I started inching nearer to him, still unsure what to do, but knowing that I needed to do _something_. Then he started talking to me…” 

**** 

“What are you doing, Jaime?” Aerys’ voice was low and menacing, the words slightly slurred by the alcohol that was evidently coursing through his system. 

“Trying to stop you doing any more damage. Move away from Pod.” Jaime was trying his best to sound authoritative, but even he heard the slight tremor in his voice. 

Aerys smiled, a sick twisted thing that made his face grotesque. “What damage am I doing?” he asked, baring his teeth. When Jaime didn’t answer, he held out a lighter and began to flick the flame on and off. Nausea rolled through Jaime as his eyes fixed on the flame and its proximity to the alcohol-soaked Pod. 

“Don’t… put that lighter away.” 

Aerys’ bright violet eyes gleamed. “Why? Better to burn than to rot.” 

“No…” Jaime whispered, creeping forward slowly as if he was facing off with a wild animal in the woods. 

“Fire is cleansing, Jaime. It burns away our sins, our _mistakes_ ,” Aerys said, glaring at Pod’s prostrate form. “Do you think I should let mistakes go unpunished? What sort of coach would I be then?” His eyes snapped back to Jaime. “One day, you’ll wish for the same lesson.” He flicked the lighter on again and began to bend forward, reaching towards Pod. 

Jaime moved. Launching himself at Aerys, he successfully knocked the lighter from his hand. But despite being blind drunk, Aerys was still a powerful man, and Jaime was soon wrestling to free himself while Aerys rained blows into his ribs. His breath was beaten from him and he suddenly began to imagine burning alongside Pod. Grunting with the effort, he finally freed an arm and punched Aerys in the face as hard as he could. He heard the crunch of bone and Aerys staggered backwards into Pod, who was still lying on the floor, causing him to trip and fall heavily backwards. A sickening thud echoed round the room as the back of Aerys’ head connected with the corner of a bench. Jaime then watched in mute horror as Aerys’ body slowly rolled to the floor and went still, blood beginning to pool around him. Even without looking, Jaime knew he was dead. 

**** 

“… I killed him,” Jaime whispered, his voice quiet and soft. “I deserve the name ‘Kingslayer’.” 

“No!” cried Brienne instantly. “He was out of control! He was _mad_ , Jaime.” 

“I’m still responsible for his death.” 

“It was an accident, Jaime! If people knew, they’d say the same!” 

“No one will ever find out,” he replied quietly. “You’re the only one outside of my family I’ve told.” 

“Why?” she asked in exasperation. 

Jaime shrugged, still averting his gaze. “The Targaryen family had it all hushed up – they didn’t want it to come out that Aerys was raving mad and had nearly beaten one of his players to death. My family helped – my father didn’t exactly want me dragged through a trial for manslaughter. Pod and I were told that if we wanted to continue playing for the club we had to toe the line. So we kept quiet and let everything get swept under the carpet. It didn’t stop the rumours, of course. So now I’m thought of as a murderer who killed a great man in cold blood and got away with it.” 

Jaime looked so distraught that Brienne didn’t know what else she could say to comfort him, so she did the only thing she could think of. Taking a determined step forward, she wrapped her strong arms around him, burying her face in his neck as if her closeness and strength could erase the past. Jaime tensed for a moment, but then sighed and slowly enclosed her in his own arms, gently kissing the top of her hair. 

They seemed to stay like that for a long time, Brienne feeling the thud of his heartbeat against her chest. She’d never felt so at home. Her blood sang at the closeness of him while her mind whirled with all the things he had told her. He’d shared one of his darkest secrets with her, and while the truth was horrifying, it confirmed her own belief in his good character. She wasn’t wrong about him. 

A cough broke the moment. Brienne’s head jerked up to find her father watching them both, his eyes narrowed. Jaime slowly released her and stepped away, leaving her feeling bereft. 

“Brienne.” Her father’s tone brooked no refusal, so when he gestured to follow him, she immediately followed. Reaching the car, she got in and slumped down in the seat. She felt drained, wishing for nothing more than sleep and quiet to get her thoughts in order. She barely noticed her father get in beside her and start the car. 

“Did you watch me play?” she asked softly. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh…” They lapsed back into silence, Brienne dimly watching the world move past the window. 

Her father cleared his throat. “I’ve booked our tickets to Tarth for Sunday.” 

Brienne’s head whipped round. “Sunday? What? The memorial isn’t until next Monday!” 

Her father kept his eyes on the road. “I thought it would be good to spend some more time on the island. Catch up with a few people.” 

Brienne stared at him in amazement. “But you _hate_ spending too long there. You always say it’s too painful.” 

“Well, this time I’ve changed my mind,” he said harshly. 

Brienne shifted in her seat, her mind in turmoil. “But Dad… the final is on Sunday. I’ll miss it.” 

This time her father let his anger show. “What’s more important, Brienne? Football or honouring your brother?” 

Brienne said nothing, merely allowing the occasional tear to slide down her face. She didn’t even have the will to wipe them away, so she let them collect on her lap unheeded as the world outside spun past her window, every minute taking her further away from the club and her dreams.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya feels contrite and Brienne gets her results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed post - work has been very busy again and weekends and evenings have also gone far too quickly. I have also been dedicating myself to writing the penultimate chapter, which has proven to be very difficult!
> 
> Anyway, here is something to tide you over for now. :) You may/may not have noticed that I had to tweak the last chapter slightly - originally I had Brienne and her father flying out to Tarth on Friday, but then I figured it would be better to have the flight on Sunday. Apologies if this causes any confusion.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Dany said you wanted to see me.”

Arya’s scowl was deeper than Jaime had ever seen it – deep furrows were carved into her forehead and her eyes were narrowed to slits. He could almost feel her animosity emanating from her. 

Jaime indicated a seat opposite to him at the table he was sitting at but Arya ignored him and continued to stand, her arms firmly crossed. 

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I wanted to talk to you about…” 

Arya cut in harshly. “I don’t want to talk about Braavos. Oh don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She paused, her anger obviously mounting. “I can’t say I’m surprised really. I should have known that only the girls who pander to your ego would get ahead.” 

Jaime’s eyes flashed with anger. “Arya, that is completely out of order!” 

“Oh come on! That scout is never going to show up for me, is he? You just didn’t want me to succeed - you can’t bear the thought of anyone else making it because you had your time and now you’re a washed up ex-pro!” 

Silence fell in the wake of her outburst. Arya’s chest was heaving with emotion, her face flushed red with rage. Jaime fought down his desire to deliver a few choice words of his own and steeled himself to calm. He needed to sort this out properly, and he couldn’t do that if he matched Arya’s anger. “He saw you play in Braavos,” he stated simply. 

Arya’s reaction was priceless: her jaw dropped and her eyes seemed to bulge a bit. “What?” she whispered, her earlier rage dissipating amid confusion. 

Jaime leant forward over the table, fixing Arya with his eyes. “He was in Braavos so I invited him to watch the match. He liked what he saw, but now he wants to see you play on home ground. He’s coming to the final.” 

Arya flopped down into the chair she had earlier refused as if all her strength had left her. Jaime smiled at her bewildered expression and softened his voice. “Now, if you’re feeling calmer, I’d like to have a proper chat with you…” 

************************************************************ 

It was here at last. The brown envelope with her name typed neatly on the front looked so innocuous sitting among the detritus of breakfast, but Brienne knew that inside it was the key to her future. For the hundredth time, she reached out and picked it up, hefting its light weight in her hands. After holding it for a few moments, she put it back on the table. She couldn’t face opening it, not yet. 

Her father was bustling around the kitchen, trying his best not to let his curiosity and impatience show. Brienne felt as though she had been waiting forever for this moment and now that it was here, she didn’t really want to know. It all just seemed so unimportant. 

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the faint knock on her front door. When she made no signs of moving, Selwyn stopped fidgeting and whisked off into the hall. Dimly, Brienne heard voices, but she was only made aware that they had a visitor when her father cleared his throat loudly. 

“Brienne? There’s a young lady here to see you. She says her name is Arya.” 

“Arya?” Brienne repeated in confusion. 

“Yes… I think that’s what she said her name was. She was mumbling a bit though.” 

“No, you heard right Dad. Thanks.” Slowly Brienne got to her feet and padded out into the hallway where her friend was nervously hopping from one foot to the other. They greeted each other awkwardly, neither one knowing what sort of reception they would get. Spotting her father hovering by the kitchen door, Brienne motioned for Arya to follow her upstairs. She didn’t want him to catch a single hint of what had happened in Braavos. 

Once safely ensconced in her room, Brienne raised a questioning eyebrow. Arya squirmed under her gaze. 

“I’m sorry!” she suddenly blurted out, her face flushing red as she did so. “I was being stupid. I know you weren’t trying to steal the scout for yourself.” 

Brienne blinked in surprise and smiled warmly. “Thank you, Arya. I’ve hated having you angry at me.” 

“Yeah, well…” Arya continued to shuffle her feet. “You can’t really blame me though, can you? I mean, it was a shock finding you… like that with Coach. I thought you hated his guts.” 

Brienne blushed deeply and looked away in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. 

“He told me what happened with your dad.” 

Brienne’s head shot up. “He did?” she exclaimed. 

“Yeah…” Arya flopped down onto Brienne’s bed. “He thinks he may have gotten you into more trouble.” 

Brienne sighed and dropped down next to Arya. “Trouble? I’m so deep in trouble I can’t see a way out. I think my dad has lost all respect for me.” 

She dropped her head in shame, and tentatively, Arya reached out and touched her shoulder. 

“There’s a scout coming to the final,” Arya suddenly whispered. 

“A scout? Oh that’s great, Arya! He’ll snap you up for sure!” 

Arya grinned. “Coach asked him to see you as well.” 

Brienne was speechless. “Me? I’m nowhere near good enough!” 

“You are!” cried Arya. “Coach obviously thinks so. You _must_ come to the final!” 

Brienne paused, her heart tightening into a fist. “I can’t.” 

“You must!” said Arya, leaping to her feet again. “You can’t let your dad hold you back! A _scout_ is coming!” 

Brienne shook her head helplessly. “It’s not that…” she murmured, looking at her hands. 

“What then?” demanded Arya, her hands on her hips. “I can’t see any reason for you not to go.” 

“It’s my brother’s memorial on Tarth.” 

“Oh,” Arya blinked, taken aback. “But I thought you said you didn’t have any siblings?” 

“I don’t. Not anymore. I had a brother once, but he died.” 

Arya’s face softened. “I’m so sorry, Bri. That’s awful. I don’t think I’d get over it if I lost one of my brothers.” 

Brienne shrugged. “You move on… you have to. But every year my dad and I go back to the island to remember him, so I just can’t make the final.” 

“What time is the memorial on Sunday?” 

“It’s not on Sunday, that’s just when we’re travelling. It’s on Monday afternoon.” 

“But that’s fine!” cried Arya. “Change your flight to later on Sunday – then you can do both! It would only delay you by a few hours.” 

Brienne looked up at Arya sadly. “I _can’t_. My dad wants to visit people there, and he needs my support to do that – I can’t just abandon him to go and play football.” 

Arya flopped back down onto the bed beside her. “You can’t ask him to travel with you later?” 

Brienne shook her head. “No… and I don’t think I’d want to. This is more important than trying to impress a scout who probably wouldn’t want me anyway.” 

“But this is your _future_ Brienne!” 

Brienne stood up abruptly. “I _know_! But I’m fed up of being torn in different directions! I just can’t do it anymore! My dad is barely speaking to me, and it’s all because of something as silly as playing football. He’s right – I’ve got to start growing up and taking things seriously. I will never make him happy if I keep doing this.” 

Arya stood and eyeballed her. “So you’re just going to give up? That’s stupid. You’ll end up regretting it.” 

“I will regret not being there for my dad when he needs me, and I will regret not making him proud,” Brienne argued. 

Arya shook her head. “You need to stand up for what you want more, Brienne.” 

“I’ve _tried_!” cried Brienne, her voice rising. “But look where it’s gotten me! I’ve lost count of the days I’ve spent holed up in here crying my eyes out. I’ve had enough.” 

“Fine. Don’t come crying to me though when you realise what an opportunity you’ve lost,” said Arya harshly. She shook her head again and then stomped out of the room. A couple of seconds later, Brienne heard the front door slam. 

Breathing heavily, she sank onto her bed. _A scout_ , she thought, _for me_. It was everything she ever dreamed of, and it was within her grasp… only she would never be able to seize the moment. Years from now she’d probably find herself still lying on this bed, staring at the fading, curling football posters wishing and dreaming of a different life. But it would be too late. 

Brienne groaned as if in pain, and desperately tried to think of a way to get what she wanted without hurting anyone, but her mind drew a blank. 

Seized with frustration, she burst out of her bedroom and thundered down the stairs. In the kitchen, she feverishly searched for the brown envelope, carelessly tearing the top off to grasp the paper within. The letters took a moment to sink into her whirling mind: 

**A A A**

Brienne crumpled on the floor, her heart still pounding. She was going to King’s Landing University.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's father has a change of heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PENULTIMATE CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> The end is now very much in sight! Thank you to everyone who has stayed with the story - it's much appreciated! You'll all be relieved to hear that things actually start working out for Brienne - although it isn't completely plain sailing.
> 
> The Dornish character is completely made up as I couldn't think of anyone suitable to play the role of the scout, just in case you are wondering. A final apology if there are any errors or typos - I've got a terrible cold and my head feels as though it is stuffed with cotton wool. The last chapter has been written in this state, so I will hopefully get it cleaned up tomorrow and then post it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!!

Brienne checked her passport and boarding pass for the hundredth time since leaving the house. She was always a bit of a nervous traveller, and today was no different. Renly, who had driven her and her father to the airport, reassuringly patted her shoulder and gave her a worried smile. She knew he was concerned by her withdrawnness, and so she tried to muster a warm smile up for his sake.

Every minute that ticked past brought her closer to the flight time, which would take her irrevocably away from King’s Landing and her final match. Thinking about what she was missing hurt deeply, so Brienne resolved to think about mundane things, like checking her passport, to keep her mind from dwelling on it. 

Her father strode up to re-join their depressed group after having checked the flight information. “It’s time to go through security now. Thank you Renly for giving us a lift,” he informed them, inclining his head politely at Renly. 

Renly smiled warmly in return. “Anytime. And call me when you get back – I can pick you both up.” 

Brienne smiled at her friend’s kindness and gave him a quick hug goodbye. Breaking apart, she saw Renly give her another worried look, so she stiffened her spine and made to follow her father. 

“Wait!” 

Renly’s shout made Brienne and her father spin back round in surprise, Selwyn raising a bushy eyebrow in question. Renly hesitated, obviously unsure as to what to say now that he had their attention. “Mr Tarth,” he finally managed. “I know it’s none of my business but… if we left now, we could still get Brienne to her football match. There’s still time.” 

Brienne’s eyes boggled at his audacity. Glancing at her father, she could see his jaw tighten in displeasure. 

“We need to get this flight, Renly. This is about remembering a member of our family,” replied Selwyn sternly. 

“I know but…” Renly glanced at Brienne. “She’s been working so hard to help the team get into this final, and now they all get to play without her. She deserves to be there. And if they win, she should be helping to lift the trophy.” 

Selwyn looked completely taken aback by Renly’s words, so Brienne stepped in. “Stop it, Renly. It doesn’t matter. This is far more important than the final – I know that. Dad, let’s go or we will miss our flight.” She started to drag her luggage back in the direction of the security gates, but to her surprise, her father hesitated. “Dad?” she called. 

Sighing, Selwyn ran a grizzled hand over his face and turned to face his daughter. “I hate this time of year. I really do. Every time this date approaches, everything gets tinged with sadness. I hate not being able to see his smiles and his laughter.” Selwn reached out a hand and laid it on Brienne’s shoulder. “But I _can_ see your smiles – only, you haven’t been smiling as much of late. If we take you to this football match, you have to promise to smile and laugh, because I don’t think I can take another day of seeing you unhappy.” 

Brienne’s brilliant blue eyes became glassy with tears, and she threw her arms around her father, hugging him as tightly as she dared. Selwyn quickly wrapped his own arms around his daughter, savouring the feeling of having her there. Pulling apart slightly, he wiped a tear off her face with one scarred finger. “Don’t make an old man cry, Brienne. That’s enough now,” he said gently. Brienne gave him a wide smile in return, hugging her dad close again. 

Renly coughed. “So… are we going to this football match or not?” 

“YES!” shouted Brienne, grabbing her case and racing out of the departure lounge. “Let’s go!” 

************************************* 

“I wish Brienne was here. She deserves this, too.” 

Arya was fidgeting outside the changing room after meeting Jaime to get some last minute tips. She was nervous and it showed – her whole body was twitching and she kept hopping from one foot to another. 

Jaime sighed. “I know. She should be here. But just because she’s not doesn’t mean that you should lose this chance. Remember the training we’ve done and just go out there and show them what you’re made of.” 

Arya nodded, although she still looked worried. “It will be harder without her up front though. I don’t like this new girl.” 

She was referring to Margery Tyrell, a very forward girl who had joined the team only in the last week. Jaime hadn’t had much time to assess her abilities, but he’d had to find a replacement for Brienne, so she would just have to do. 

“I know it’s not ideal, but you’ll do fine on your own. Just treat it like a normal match,” he reassured her. Arya huffed but gave him a curt nod before going back inside the changing room to begin her last-minute preparations. Jaime glanced over at the pitch and tried to lift his own gloomy spirits. He hoped the scout liked the look of Arya – she was a fantastic player and could go far given the chance. It was just a shame that Brienne wasn’t going to get the same opportunity. Turning his back on the pitch and the rapidly filling stands once more, he rapped on the changing room door to enter and give the girls his pre-match talk. 

******************************************* 

“Ugh, can’t you buy a car with proper-sized backseats?” Brienne moaned as she banged her elbow on one of the car doors. 

“It’s not my car’s fault that it wasn’t designed as a changing room. You can’t blame the developers for not wondering how a near-six foot tall blonde would change into a football kit on the backseat,” Renly retorted. 

Brienne aimed a punch at his head, but Renly dodged it easily. “Hey! Hey! I’m driving here!” 

Brienne grumbled and continued to try and thrust her legs into her football shorts. They had raced out of the airport and back to her house in order for her to pick up her kit, and now they were making their arduous way through King’s Landing’s traffic-filled roads to the training ground. All of them were highly strung with nerves, including Selwyn, who kept giving Renly ineffectual advice about alleged shortcuts. Time was slowly ticking by, and at this rate, Brienne would only just make it for the second half. 

“Are you sure there isn’t a quicker way?” asked Selwyn for the hundredth time. 

Renly rolled his eyes. “I’m positive. It’s those damn roadworks. No one is even working there – it’s a Sunday for Gods’ sakes! – but we still have to crawl around at half the speed limit. Ridiculous!” 

Selwyn sighed and sat back into his seat. “We’re going to miss the match!” he said, checking his watch. 

“No, we’re not. Stop panicking!” Renly ordered, despite also having a quick glance at his watch. “Everything will be fine… I’m sure.” 

Brienne sat back and started fastening her boot laces, fervently hoping and praying that he was right. She couldn’t miss the match – not now! 

******************************************* 

Things weren’t going well. As predicted, the final opponent that stood in the way of the King’s Maidens was Lannisport Women’s F.C., and they were currently living up to their reputation of being formidable opponents. 

The first half had been pretty close – both sides had struggled to exploit the other’s weaknesses, which had resulted in the first half being largely goalless. However, Arya had finally managed to wriggle round the defenders and net a goal in impressive style, something that was sure to have impressed the scout. However, her victory glow was short-lived, as almost immediately after, the other team managed to score a near-impossible goal that just slipped through Ygritte’s fingers. Half-time had then been called, and Jaime had had to work hard to rally their spirits, encouraging them to be more aggressive and to exploit the space on the pitch more. 

The second half immediately started badly when Margery slipped on the wet pitch and twisted her ankle. She had to leave the game, but there was no one in reserve to call up. The King’s Maidens would just have to battle on a player down. 

Jaime ran his hands through his hair in frustration. His team were as prepped as they possibly could be, but they seemed to be running out of energy. Desperately, he tried to encourage them by joining the crowd’s shouts. There was just half an hour to go. 

“Jaime!” 

The sound of his name caused him to look around in confusion – but then he saw her. Brienne was racing towards him, closely followed by that irritatingly good-looking man with the dark hair and – to his complete surprise – Brienne’s father. 

“Freckles!” he grinned as she reached him. “What happened? What are you doing here?” 

Brienne smiled back, her blue eyes dancing. “My dad let me come. Am I too late?” 

“Almost – there’s 30 minutes left on the clock and we are a player down. Get warmed up and then you’re on!” 

Brienne obediently began to work her way through her stretches while her little entourage found seats in the stands. Jaime couldn’t help smiling – finally, things were starting to look up. 

As soon as he could, he motioned to the referee that he was sending on a new player and Brienne jogged onto the pitch. 

“Come on, Freckles. You can do this,” Jaime silently prayed, giving her an encouraging smile as she took up position. “Time to win this match!” 

************************************************* 

The other girls squealed as she jogged onto the pitch. Their smiling faces made Brienne’s heart skip in happiness, especially when they all rushed over and gave her a bone-crushing hug. To her delight, Arya also ran over and squeezed her until her lungs were empty. 

“I _knew_ you’d make it!” she crowed, her grin running from ear-to-ear. 

Brienne grinned back. “Jaime, I mean Coach, told me that you scored the goal – well done!” 

“Yeah, well,” huffed Arya. “They’ve got one back, so now we’re equal.” 

“We’ve got half an hour – there’s still time to win!” 

“Absolutely,” Arya replied, hurrying back to her starting spot. The other girls gave Brienne a final clap on the back, and then they fanned out, reinvigorated and buoyed up by their friend’s return. 

Brienne soon understood why it was proving to be so hard to score goals – Lannisport Women’s F.C. were a tough team who seemed to be strong in both defense and attack. She raced across the pitch, desperately dodging tackles and making a few skilful ones of her own, but still she found no chink in their armour. The others in her team were also tired thanks to being down a player for the first part of the second half, and slowly their opponents were beginning to apply the pressure. Brienne glanced up at the clock on the scoreboard and horror shot through her - just 10 minutes now remained. 

Brienne steeled herself and tried to get her head back in the game. As she re-focused, she saw Arya make a daring tackle that somehow gave her control of the ball. She immediately began to race up the field in Brienne’s direction. 

“Arya!” she bellowed, indicating that she was free from the menace of a defender. Arya’s head shot up, and she sent the ball spinning in her direction, just as an opponent made a move to rid her of the ball. 

Brienne controlled the ball’s arrival with her foot, and then began to sprint towards the goal. She was within a few steps of the penalty area when she once again experienced the strange feeling of having her legs tugged from underneath her. 

Landing heavily on the floor, she felt around her left leg for injuries. Fortunately, there was no harm done, but the referee came over for a closer look anyway. 

“Free kick to the King’s Maidens,” he decreed, laying out the ball ready. 

Fear coiled in Brienne’s belly, the memory of her failed attempt to score a penalty in Braavos leaping to the forefront of her mind. Nervously, she regained her feet and moved into position behind the ball. The other players had quickly formed a wall blocking the goal from her – she would have to be especially skilled, and particularly lucky, if she was to score a goal and maybe, maybe seal a victory for her team. 

Searching for reassurance, she glanced in the direction of the stands and her heart warmed to see her father and Renly cheering and willing her on. She desperately wanted to make them proud and she also wanted to prove to her father that he had made the right decision by letting her play today. The thought of the scout never even crossed her mind – she just wanted to do her best for herself and those she had put through hell recently. 

Taking a deep breath, she lined herself up and calculated her shot. Distantly, she heard Jaime shout – “Come on, Freckles!” – but she tried her best not to answer with her typical scowl, focusing instead on the job in hand. 

“This is for you, Dad,” she murmured. “And for you, brother. Wish your sister luck.” She lined up, took a powerful stride towards the ball and kicked it. 

Everything seemed to move as if it was bogged down in treacle – slowly, painfully the ball arced its way over the heads of the other players and swerved towards the goal. The Lannisport goalie fixed her eyes on it and leapt, her outstretched fingers straining to reach the ball. But her fingertips only grazed it as it sailed past, and it thudded into the net behind her. 

“YES!” screamed Brienne, her joy surging through her. Her teammates instantly rushed upon her, crushing her with enthusiastic hugs. Arya was particularly enthusiastic, leaping onto her back and crowing with happiness. Finding hidden reserves of energy, Brienne started running around with Arya on her back, shouting and laughing as she did so. 

The remaining minutes whizzed by in a whirl of adrenaline and happiness, and before she knew it, the whistle blew for the end of the match. The King’s Maidens had won the tournament! 

The girls’ celebrations on the pitch were loud and long, and they were soon joined by Jaime, who rushed onto the field to congratulate them. Brienne had never felt so good – they’d done it! And best of all, her father had been there to see it. As soon as she was able to untangle herself from her teammates, she hurtled over to the stands and leapt over the barrier, jumping into her father’s waiting arms. 

“Well done!” he whispered into her ear. She pulled away slightly and saw tears in his eyes. “You were magnificent.” Brienne’s own eyes now filled with tears, and finding herself unable to say anything, she simply clasped her father tightly to her and held him for as long as she was able. 

************************* 

“Arya, Freckles, are you decent, or as near as you’re ever likely to be?” 

Jaime was banging on the changing room door, trying to make himself heard over the excited babble within. Eventually he heard shouts of assent and the door swung open to reveal a wildly excited Arya and a beaming Brienne. 

He grinned at them both, before standing aside to reveal a small dark-haired man in sunglasses. 

“Girls, this is Acel Sand. Acel, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to Arya Stark and Brienne Tarth.” 

The girls instantly became nervous. Here were there hopes and dreams personified. Jaime knew the feeling well – he had felt the same when a scout for King’s Landing United had approached him one day. The memory was a pleasant one, but it still brought with it a tinge of sadness. 

The girls shook hands with the scout, who grinned at them both. “That was a great match to watch – so close right up until the end! I thought you both played excellently. I could see your potential in Braavos, but the way you played in this match really underlined that. I’d therefore love to snap you both up for my team in Dorne – the Sunspear Ladies Strikers. This would of course include a scholarship to Sunspear University.” 

For the first time that Jaime could recall, both girls were speechless. The scout laughed at their reaction. “Well, have a think about it. I’ll get your contact details off Jaime and then I’ll be in touch.”Acel laughed again, shook Jaime’s hand and wandered off among the crowd. 

“Congratulations girls,” Jaime said with pride, beaming at his players like a proud father. He couldn’t help but smile at Arya’s overexcitement. Her silence hadn’t lasted for long – now she was jumping up and down and making a hell of a racket. 

“I’ve got to go and tell my mum!” she cried, suddenly dashing off. 

“Phew, a bit of peace at last!” Jaime commented. “I don’t think anyone in her house will sleep tonight.” 

Brienne smiled and Jaime once again found himself staring into the beautiful blue pools she had for eyes. 

“Thank you Jaime,” she murmured, giving him her warmest smile. 

“For what?” he asked, stepping fractionally closer to her. 

“For everything… for telling the scout about me.” 

“You’re a talented player,” he replied honestly. “It would have been wrong not to. And now I shall have to go on the hunt for a pair of decent strikers to fill the gaps left by you and Arya.” 

Brienne shuffled on her feet. “If I go…” she whispered. 

Jaime was surprised. “ _If_ you go? Of course you must!” 

Brienne dropped her head and stared fixedly at her feet. “It’s just that… well, I’ve been accepted into King’s Landing University and… Dorne is so far away! It’s far away from my father and from…” 

_You_. The word was unspoken, but Jaime instinctively knew what she was going to say. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Brienne…” he began, but he was cut off by the arrival of Selwyn. Reluctantly he stepped back again to a more formal distance. He was relieved to see that Selwyn didn’t seem to be paying any mind to their tête a tête. Indeed, he was obviously in a great mood, even going so far as to shake his hand. 

“Bloody great match!” cried Selwyn, pumping his hand up and down until Jaime thought it would break. 

“It certainly was,” Jaime concurred, finally managing to disengage his hand from Selwyn’s own. 

Selwyn beamed and turned to Brienne. “We’d better be going now. We must make the next flight or there won’t be anything until the early hours of tomorrow morning.” He nodded at Jaime made to leave. Brienne shot him a last parting look and a weak smile before trailing after her father. 

“Wait! Brienne!” Jaime surged forward and gripped her arm, staring intently into her face. “Just think about it, OK? Don’t think about anyone else – decide what it is _you_ want to do.” 

Surprise gleamed in her azure eyes, but she nodded in agreement. Relaxing his grip in relief, Jaime allowed her to go, even though he wanted nothing more than to make her stay. He just hoped he’d said enough to give her the courage to follow her dreams, even if it meant leaving him behind.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne talks to her father on Tarth while Jaime waits in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farewell and adieu...
> 
> This is it! The last chapter! I can't believe I have actually managed to finish this, and it is all thanks to you amazing readers - if I wasn't so worried about upsetting you all by discontinuing the story, I don't think I would ever have gotten it all down. As a first fanfiction, this has been an amazing experience, and I never expected the support and comments I received, so thank you all very much. 
> 
> Now, we all like a happy ending, and because I've put Brienne through hell over the course of this story, I may have stayed a little too far into sentimentality. Indeed, the cheesiness may be on a par with a fine stilton. But hey, a little bit of soppy goodness never hurt anyone, and I feel Brienne deserves it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this conclusion. It really has been a pleasure to write.

Brienne made herself comfortable on the golden sand. It was warm from the morning sun, and it felt as soft and familiar as feather pillows. Her feet were bare so she curled her toes into the soft grains, relishing the feel of the sand beneath her toes. The view in front of her was one she loved; the bay curled out in front of her, the view leading across a field of burnished sand towards an endless sapphire sea. Not a soul was in sight, so the calming scenery was uninterrupted and beautiful in its serenity.

A gentle wind tousled her short hair, its fingers gently caressing her face and bringing the salty tang of the sea to her nostrils. Brienne was alone on the beach, but she embraced the feeling of isolation, letting her mind wander where it will. 

As always, after the memorial for her much loved brother had finished, both Brienne and her father craved some peace. Sometimes they took this together, but more often than not, Brienne would find herself wandering the familiar coastal paths towards the beach, where she would settle herself among the comforting folds of the sand dunes and let herself relax. 

This thinking space was always needed – Brienne’s head was full of memories brought back to the surface by the ceremony, and she needed time to sift through them, laughing at the occasional remembrance of a childish prank, or crying over a painful recollection of a dream never to materialise. This year, Brienne also needed to think of other things; namely, her future. 

The offer of a scholarship to Sunspear University and the chance to play football professionally still hadn’t sunk in. It seemed unreal, and she worried that if she were to mention it out loud, it would disappear in a puff of smoke. 

Brienne felt exhausted – not physically, but emotionally. Her relationship with her father had sunk to a low she had never thought possible, and she missed their old easy intimacy. Since her brother’s death, it had always been her and her father. They had comforted each other, grieved together, and slowly rebuilt their life side-by-side. Now that history had been put in jeopardy, and Brienne feared that it would snap altogether should she leave her father’s house and take off for a new life in Dorne. 

But she wanted it, and badly. Arya had been right – if she didn’t seize the chance to do this now, she would end up regretting it, and Brienne wasn’t sure she could live with the ‘what ifs’ for the rest of her life. 

There was another problem, however. Her relationship with Jaime was such a delicate and undefined thing that a slight breeze threatened to dismantle it altogether. What _was_ their relationship exactly? Neither one had said anything about their feelings, and this made Brienne fear that it was all in her head. All she had to go on was that one brief moment in Braavos, and even then she had to admit that she was a little worse for wear at the time – as was Jaime, most likely. 

Of course, she couldn’t, she _wouldn’t_ stay in King’s Landing because of a hope that she and Jaime may have something, but she didn’t feel as though she could leave without knowing that what she felt was real, and that it was returned in kind. If she left things as they were, it would be another ‘what if’ situation to add to her list. 

She sighed and looked up across the beach. A figure was making its ponderous way across the sand, stopping every few steps as though looking for something. As the figure came closer, Brienne recognised its hulking frame as her father’s, so she waved a hand in the air to alert him to her position. 

He spotted her and made his painstaking way over to her, climbing up the hill of the dune with slow, heavy steps. When he finally reached her, he flopped down next to her, resting his long, strong arms over his knees. 

They sat in silence like this for some time, merely listening to the distant crash of the waves and the occasional shriek of a seagull. Brienne continued to mull over her options in her mind before she finally plucked up the courage to speak. 

“Dad… a Dornish scout watched me play yesterday.” 

The sentence hung in the air unanswered for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually her father spoke. “What did he say?” 

“He’s made me an offer – I get a scholarship to Sunspear University and the opportunity to play football professionally. And I really want to go.” She turned her beseeching eyes on him, begging to know his thoughts. 

Selwyn took a deep breath before turning to her and taking her hand between his large, warm paws. “Then you must go,” he said quietly, his own steely blue eyes watering with emotion. “You have such talent, Brienne… I’ve never been prouder than I was yesterday watching you play. I’ve been a fool. I wanted to protect you and make sure you had a safe, secure future, but all the while I was holding you back.” Brienne opened her mouth to contradict him, but he squeezed her hand and bade her to be silent. “No, Brienne. I know what I say is true. I’m truly ashamed of myself – thank the gods you had people like Renly and that girl Arya to support you, because I certainly didn’t. Hell, even Jaime Lannister of all people had more faith in you than me.” 

“Dad…” 

Selwyn smiled, interrupting her. “Listen. If you want to go, then go. I won’t stop you. I will miss you, of course, but one day I knew I’d have to let you go.” 

Tears began to roll down Brienne’s cheeks as she gripped her father’s hand. “I love you, Dad. I’m so sorry for lying to you.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Selwyn soothed. “I’m just so proud of what you have achieved. And I know that your brother would be proud of you, too.” 

Brienne now sobbed brokenly and leant onto her father’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the dark days of the past few weeks melting into the background. 

Now that the air had been cleared, Brienne felt the need to get her other secrets off her chest. Blushing furiously, she struggled within herself to find the right words. “Dad… I wish you would show a little more faith in Jaime.” Brienne felt her father’s body stiffen slightly, but she stubbornly kept her face nestled on his shoulder, avoiding his gaze. 

“Why?” he asked hoarsely. 

“I… I think I’m in love with him. And… I think he may feel the same.” 

There – she’d said it, although now that she had, it seemed completely ridiculous. 

Selwyn gently prised her head off his shoulder and made her look at him. “Do you trust him?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. “There’s things you don’t know about him – things that, if you knew, you wouldn’t have to ask me that.” 

“Tell me then.” 

“I can’t… It’s not my secret to tell. But he is not what you think him to be.” 

Selwyn frowned, thinking things over. “I thought it was strange that he would go to the effort of making a personal call on your behalf, but I never suspected… He’s a little older than you, Brienne. And his background is so very different.” 

“I know, but I can’t help it. Although I suppose it doesn’t really matter – if I’m going to Dorne, we won’t see each other anyway.” She bowed her head in sadness, not wanting her father to see her pain. 

“You’re so young Brienne. You haven’t seen anything in the world yet. You may meet someone else down the line and carve out a future with them. Or, if it’s meant to be, perhaps you will find a way to be with Jaime. Either way, you’ve got plenty of time to find someone special. Although I doubt anyone could ever be your equal.” 

“Oh Dad!” she cried, lightly punching his arm. “I think you may be a little biased there.” 

Selwyn grinned. “And why shouldn’t I be? I’ve got a wonderful daughter who is fulfilling her dreams of being a footballer. I shall boast about you so much in the pub that all the regulars will start drinking elsewhere.” 

Brienne laughed, her mood lifting with every word her father said. Turning serious again, she asked: “So… if I _did_ bring Jaime home…would you accept him?” 

Her father thought for a moment. “If you trust him, then I will also trust him. Although if he hurts you, I shall bash his pretty face in!” 

“Dad!” Brienne exclaimed. 

“What? A father has to protect his daughter, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing her in another hug. “I tell you what… why don’t we drive down to that café I used to take you and your brother to, and eat a couple of massive slices of that chocolate cake he used to love. I think that would be both a fitting toast and the perfect way to celebrate your success, don’t you?” 

Brienne grinned. “Sounds good.” 

Selwyn beamed in response and they stood up, brushing particles of sand from their clothes before making their peaceful way back along the beach, arm in arm. 

************************************ 

The end of the summer tournament meant no training for a couple of weeks, but Jaime still came down to the training ground to do paperwork, check equipment and generally while away his time. Acel had contacted him the day before saying that he had sent details of his offer to both Arya and Brienne. Arya had immediately accepted, but he was still waiting for word from Brienne. Jaime hoped that she decided to go for the opportunity. He had no doubt that she would do brilliantly, and she deserved it just as much as Arya did. If only she would hurry and make her mind up, and then he could stop worrying about her. 

Having run out of things to do in the equipment room, Jaime strolled out towards the pitch where a few members of the men’s team were mucking around. They weren’t a patch on his girls, he thought smugly, although they certainly played better than he could now. 

He was just allowing himself to begin wallowing in a bit of self-pity when he heard running feet. Looking up, he saw a tall figure flash out of the club doors. His heart skipped a beat when he realised that it was none other than Brienne. 

She turned and spotted him, instantly racing over to where he was leaning on the pitch entry gates. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her messy blond hair and her sparkling blue eyes. 

“Freckles!” he greeted her, but his breath was soon knocked from his lungs as she collided into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his chest. 

“He said I could go!” she shrieked, her excitement flowing out of her. “I’m going to Dorne!” 

Happiness surged through Jaime, and he instantly took Brienne in his arms and whirled her around, their laughter and joy mingling together. 

Finally, he placed her feet back upon the floor, breathless from the laughter. He didn’t withdraw his arms though – if Brienne wanted him to let go, she would have to be one the initiate it. After all, this may be the last time he got to hold her. 

Still smiling, he looked deep into her bright eyes. Her face was flushed pink and her smile stretched from ear to ear, making her look so very young and carefree. To his delight, she didn’t move away, but continued to smile at him, her eyes brighter than a summer sky. 

A sudden tinge of sadness went through Jaime. If Brienne was going to Dorne, he wouldn’t be coaching her any more, and that meant he may never see her. Brienne obviously noticed the change in his expression, because her eyes grew concerned. “What’s the matter?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Nothing. I just remembered that this means I’m no longer your coach. It’s going to be hell trying to find decent replacements for you and Arya. But ignore me – I’m so happy for you. You completely deserve this.” 

Brienne smiled, although she still looked worried. “I shall miss having you as my coach. Although I don’t think I shall miss your dyslexic spelling mistakes.” 

Jaime grinned. “Hey! That’s a disability you know. It’s completely out of my hands.” 

“Hmmm,” Brienne hummed, obviously unconvinced. 

“When do you leave for Dorne?” he questioned, dreading her answer. 

“In a few days,” she answered quietly. 

Jaime nodded, trying hard not to let his distress show. 

“I came here to thank you,” Brienne said suddenly. “You gave me faith in myself and my abilities, and you gave me a chance I would never have had otherwise. Thank you.” 

Jaime smiled, still refusing to relinquish his hold on her. “You’re welcome, Freckles. It’s been an honour.” 

Brienne shifted uncomfortably. “I wanted to say something else, too.” 

“Hmm?” Jaime murmured, his eyes busy committing every freckle on her face to memory so that he could remember her face once she had gone. 

Brienne wriggled, obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable. “What happened in Braavos…” she began, looking earnestly into his face. “It wasn’t a mistake – at least, not for me.” 

Hot raw emotion surged through Jaime and he felt his heartbeat quicken. His mind was racing, so much so that he almost missed what Brienne said next. 

“I can’t go without knowing,” she continued, “whether or not you felt the same, and if, at all possible, whether we may have something together?” She blushed furiously, but steeled herself to meet his gaze. 

“Gods, Brienne,” he breathed. “I think I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for a long, long time.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and he finally relented and indulged himself in the luxury of kissing her. 

Memories of that night in Braavos soared to the forefront of his mind, but this was so much better. Both of them knew exactly what they were doing this time, their bodies tangled together, each one revelling in the feeling of being close to someone they had wanted for so long. Jaime pulled Brienne closer to him, wanting to close even the smallest gap between them, and Brienne melted against him – a perfect match. 

Finally, they drew apart, each one breathless and raw with emotion. To his horror, he saw that Brienne’s eyes were filled with tears. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked worriedly, lightly brushing a lock of hair away from her face. 

“Dorne… it’s so far away. I will never get to see you!” Brienne confessed, her eyes swimming. 

Jaime laughed. “Oh Freckles! I’m an ex-professional footballer and a Lannister to boot. I _think_ I can afford the occasional flight to Dorne. Or even a regular flight,” he added, a wolfish grin forming. 

“Really? You’d come all that way to see me?” Brienne questioned, her voice full of wonder. 

“Of course. There’s no way I’m letting you slip through my fingers,” he replied. 

Brienne smiled, her face full of warmth, affection and, dare he think it, love. And it was all given to him freely, without the games or the conditions Cersei had placed on him, and Jaime realised that he was happy – truly happy. He was so overwhelmed that he could find nothing more to say, so instead, he closed both their lips with a kiss.


End file.
